The Hunter
by AshlaTi
Summary: Stormies take on what may be their greatest challange, just surviving, The boys in white deal with the ultimate predator, Please R
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Star Wars, George Lucas does. Any other characters in this story are the property of Twentieth Century Fox film company, and the original story belongs to Jim and John Thomas. I'm not making a cent off of this, just thought you fans would like a good throw-down, beat-up story**

**Outer Rim, the week before the destruction of the Death Star II at Endor**

The infinite blackness was punctuated by a billion stars, the galaxy shines between the two gas-giants of Jestefad and Lefrani, to rest on volcanic planet of Mustafar. Slowly an object falls through the orange breathable atmosphere over a lush smoking forest, backlit by the setting sun Priate.

Over the shores of Berken's Flow, through a collage of shimmering heat waves, a dark other-worldly object drops into view, floating as if suspended by the rising heat of the blackened forest. Continuing to creep closer the approaching object resolves into a large troop-carrying MAAT/i, it's engines strobing in the fading sunlight. Drawing closer, the sound of of it's powerful ion engines, whining in the heavy air, becomes dominant, overpowering.

Guided by colored smoke and landing lights, the MAAT/i looms hard into view, pitching forward and settling to the ground, kicking up a maelstrom of dust and cooled magma.

**2200, Command Post**

An officer wearing an Imperial Army uniform watches through the large open windows the MAAT/i as it continues to approach. Before the skids have even touched down he sees the first of the men, dressed in fatigues and body gloves, but carry full combat gear, alight gracefully from the transport, double-timing in close order to one side. The orders shouted by one man lost in the whine of the MAAT/i

The Army officer turns away from the window, to a figure, hidden in the shadows. "He's here."

He turns back, lowering a corulag bamboo shade, obscuring the window.

On adjoining pads, two other MAAT/i are visible; in the background can be seen several duracrete and thatch-work buildings, a secret command post disguised as a coastal lava-mining village. The post is a flurry of activity, Imperial advisers shouting directions to dozens of Northern Mustafarian troopers who stand by to assist the landing MAAT/i and to load equipment into the other transports.

Inside the MAAT/i, one man remains, stretched out against the bulkhead, as if asleep. He stirs, sits up, lighting up a cigarra. With fatigue showing in his motion, he leans forward, descending to the ground. A landspeeder pulls to a stop, the man swinging casually into the front seat, tossing his gear into the rear. With a lurch the landspeeder heads out towards the command post. In the doorway two men solemnly watch as the ground transport approaches. Reaching the command post the man alights from the landspeeder, heading towards the two men.

Into the pool of light cast by the fixture above the door steps Major CA-4878, the team leader, 38, and intelligent and intense man. He informally salutes General H.L. Patricks, 55, hardened, close-cropping graying hair, his nameplate and rank squares identifying him as a member of an elite imperial commando unit in the Imperial Army. He clasps 4878 warmly on the shoulder. "You're looking well, CA."

"It's been a long time, General." They walk up the stairs, entering the palapa, leaving the other man on guard. Upstairs are two large duracrete floored rooms, thatched walls and roof. Behind a partially drawn curtain in the kitchen, a naked light bulb hung from the rafters illuminates a bank of orbital holopics, field sub-space radio equipment, holomaps, and a foodsynth. Otherwise the rooms are primitive and stand out in stark contrast to this high-tech invasion, as Patricks and 4878 enter the room.

"We've got a real problem here, Something right up your alley." Patricks informs him. They cross to the center of the room to a holoprojection of a large topographical map of the central Mustafarian highland smoking forest. Patricks leans over the table, circling a set of coordinates and a mark on the open map. "Eighteen hours ago I was informed that one of our MAAT/i, transporting three chancellery cabinet members from this charming little planet, was shot down..." points to the circled area, "...the pilots commoed from the ground that they were all alive. Their position was fixed by the transponder beacon onboard the MAAT/i." points. "Here."

CA-4878 studies the map. He looks up at Patricks. "That's over the border. General."

Patricks dead serious now, "That's the problem, apparently they strayed off course. We're certain they've been captured by the rebels."

4878 looks up, puffing lightly on the cigarra. "What have you got in mind, General?"

"We figure we've got less than twenty-four hours to catch up with them. After that there's not much hope. We want a rescue operation mounted tonight. That doesn't give you much time."

Another puff of the cigarra. "What else is new? When do we leave?"

Patricks looks at his chrono. "You lift off in three hours. There's one other thing."

"What's that, General?"

"Someone else will be going with you."

4878 stubs out his cigarra in an ashtray. "You know we don't work with outsiders, General."

A voice from behind him speaks, "Who said anything about outsiders, CA?"

CA-4878 turns, seeing the outline of a figure standing in the doorway of the commo room, holding a holopad. Wearing pressed ISB fatigues, Dante, mid-thirties, his bearing and grooming indicate he's been away from the business of soldiering for sometime. His quick intelligent eyes reveal his current profession. "Last time we danced, it was Lieutenant, CA."

A grin breaks out across 4878's face. "Dante, you son of a mynock." The two men step forward and simultaneous swing from the hip as if to land a punch, but their hands slap together in a gesture of friendship, their forearms bulging, testing each other's strength.

"How have you been, CA?" Dante asks warmly. They continue the contest, 4878 has the edge, forcing Dante's arm slowly downward.

"You've been pushing to many icons, Dante. Had enough?"

Dante grins, "No way, old buddy."

"You never did know when to quit." They look into each other's faces, each remembering something from the past. A moment's hesitation and they quit the contest. They laugh, Dante slapping 4878 on the shoulder.

"That piece of work you guys pulled off at the Coronet City embassy last week was really something. Blew the entry points on three floors and neutralized the rebel opposition in eight seconds flat. Beautiful."

"Like the old days, Dante."

"Also heard you passed on that little job in the Corporate Sector Authority."

4878 looks at Dante, quietly considering him. "Wasn't my style, we're a rescue unit, not assassins." smiles, "This must be good. Big shot from the ISB, leaves his desk to come back to the bush. What's so important?"

"The cabinet members are very important to the Emperor's scope of operations in this part of the Outer Rim. They're about to get squeezed. We can't let that happen. I needed someone who could get the job done, quick and quiet... no screw-ups. I needed the best. The best. So, I pulled a few strings at the Army HQ on Imperial Center....and here we are."

"Go on" 4878 stares at him.

Dante goes to the holomap. "The set-up is simple, CA. One day job. We pick up their trail at the MAAT/i, run em down, grab the hostages and bounce back across the border before anyone knows we were there. You've done it a hundred times. Nothing out of the ordinary.

CA-4878 considers this. "It's nothing we can't handle alone."

Patricks breaks in. "I'm afraid those are your orders, Major. Once you reach your objective, Dante will evaluate the situation and take charge."

4878 looks from Patricks to Dante. He still doesn't like it.

"Not to worry, CA. I haven't lost my edge. They've got a head start on us in some real tough country, otherwise, believe me, it's a blue milk run."

Patrick speaks, "Gentlemen, we're losing time." to 4878, "You'd better get your men ready, good luck, Major."

**0100, Two Assault MAAT/i,**

Bursting over the top of a ridge between two volcanoes, raising up in a silhouette they perform a radical left bank turn and descend rapidly into an adjoining valley, racing over the forest at treetop level. As the MAAT/i perform dizzying, high-speed maneuvers through the winding canyon, the pilot's voices can be heard through their external speakers, coordinating their operations.

"Redbird Two, Two. Bearing south, three, five, zero, one o'clock on the saddle ridge. Over."

"Roger, roger, Blue Leader. Three, five, zero, on your move. Over." The MAAT/i rise in perfect coordination over another ridge and bank sharply into the next valley, leveling out as they go.

In the rear of the craft, illuminated by the eerie red glow of night lights, are seven troopers, dressed in Jungletrooper camouflage, stormtrooper armor, and black body gloves. They wear no identity badges or insignias. The men are checking their blasters, making last minute adjustments to their gear. The compartment reverberates with the noise of the whining engines and the roar of the air from the open doors.

BL-2673, weapons and ordinance specialist, a frightening bull of a man, a 240 pound killer, removes from his leg pouch a thick plug of tobacco. He looks across at:

MA-7839, a huge bear of a man, black, holding a DLT-20A blaster rifle. 2673 holds out the tobacco to MA who refuses with a gentle shake of the head, a knowing smile, he knows what's coming. Holding the plug between his teeth BL-2673 yanks free from his shoulder scabbard a wicked, ten inch combat vibro-blade. Placing the razor sharp blade next to his lips, he slices through the plug as if it were butter. He chews thoughtfully.

Seated by the open doorway is RZ-0619, a slight, angular man, an east Imperial Center, streetwise trooper. Adding a final piece of camouflage tape to his pack harness, he looks up and smiles, faking a throw and bulleting the tape to:

HK-2267, the Commotrooper and medic, Corellian, street-tough, reading a holozine, as if he were a rush hour commuter. He snags the tape with an instinctual snap of the wrist, continuing to read for a moment before looking up, grinning at RZ-0619, his boyish eager face belying the rugged professional beneath. He turns his gaze to the man next to him:

BZ-2946, the Tatooine Scout, a sandpeople hunter, proud, stoic, a man of quiet strength and simplicity, carefully replacing the firing mechanism of his imperial repeating rifle, working its action several times. He looks up with a smile at HK-2267.

HK-2267 shouts at him over the roar, "Hey, BZ, how many Imperial Marines does it take to eat a squirrel?" BZ-2946 looks back, shaking his head, uncomprehending. "Two. One to eat it and one to watch for landspeeders." HK-2267 laughs heartily at his joke.

Clearing another ridge, the pair of MAAT/i plunge into a steep descent, turning quickly into a deep-walled canyon, the force of the turn accentuated by the changing pitch of the whining ion engines in the air.

The stormtroopers, suspended in restraining harnesses from the bulkheads, lean forward, nearly upside down in response to the radical maneuver, handling the situation with ease. 2673 holds out the tobacco to 0619, who swats at the offending object as if it were alive. RZ-0619 shouts, "Get that stinkin' thing out of my face, BL!"

Grinning BL-2673 offers the plug to each trooper, each one refusing; they've done it a thousand times. It's an old gag, but they obviously care for the man in a big way. "...bunched of slack-jawed Givens around here..." holds up the plug, "...this stuff will put hair on your chest, guaranteed..." chewing, "...make you a Sith-damned sexual Rancor... just like me." This brings a chorus of hoots and shouts from the others. The MAAT/i makes another radical turn.

CA-4878 and Dante, seated near the cockpit, communicate through the HUDs in their buckets, also linked to the pilot. They consult a small holomap by red glowrod. Dante points at the holopad. "Our rendezvous points and sub-space freqs are indicated and fixed. Orbital contact on four hour intervals"

"What's our back-up on this?" 4878 asks.

Dante grins, "No such thing, old buddy. It's a one-way ticket. Once we cross that border, we're on our own."

"This gets better by the minute."

The pilot and co-pilot, a pair of clones left over from the war, are surrounded by an array of dimly lit gauges and switches. Before the co-pilot is a sub-space radar screen and an infra-red display terminal on which the two MAAT/i appear as heat sources. The first pilot is overheard, ",,,roger Bird Two, Two. Reconfirm insertion at Trill, Cresh, Dorn one, zero niner on the grid at zero, two, two, mark four by zero. Over."

"Two, Two, leader. Roger, roger your insert co-ord. Over."

"Leader to Bird Two, Two. I bear two minutes to landing zone." The pilot threw a switch on the panel before him. A blue light appears on the forward bulkhead. CA-4878 is speaking over a radio commo. The co-pilot turns and hands him a holopad. 4878 reads, notes his approval and hands it back.

The MAAT/i flares up into position over the smoking forest and hovers, as the support MAAT/i holds in a protective position above.

Dante seems comfortable with the stormtroopers, showing RZ-0619 a battered cigarra lighter from the famed Clone Commando unit from the war. But his ingratiating demeanor is not impressing MA-7839, who regards Dante with the cold suspicion reserved for an outsider. MA looks up at BL-2673, his eyes narrowing.

2673's massive jaw rolls as he masticates the chew. He pauses, eyes moving downward, spotting his target. He hocks a thick, vile stream of tobacco juice directly between Dante's legs and onto the floor, a gelatinous skein lacing across the toe of one white plastoid boot. Dante looks up, his face goes cold and menacing.

"Trooper, that's a real bad habit you've got." Dante turns back to RZ-0619, ignoring 7839 and 2673, who continues to stare at him. MA-7839 looks across at BL-2673, wide grins breaking across their huge faces. Cradled in BL-2673's arms, as if it were part of his body, is a large, canvas-covered bundle. BL-2673 looks down at his bundle, almost affectionately.

The pilot's voice breaks in over CA-4878's commo. "LZ comin' up in 30 seconds. Stand by the rappel lines."

Looking up, 4878 gives the hand signal to the nearest stormtrooper who nods and in return, passes the signal down the line. RZ-0619 and BL-2673 pick up heavy, metal conical devices, attached to canvas bags filled with rope. From the open doors the rappelling lines hurtle into space, crashing into the double canopy of the burnt trees and to the forest floor below.

The Blue light changes to green. 4878 nods. The rappelling devices snap into place. Power-gloved hands grab onto the rope. Combat boots move into position.

Dante shouts at CA-4878, "You don't know how much I missed this, CA! Once you get this in your blood, you never get it out!"

"You never were all that smart...let's go!" 4878 signals. Stormtroopers leap from the MAAT/i. The troopers crash through the trees and are swallowed up by the darkness below. The MAAT/i depart, whining their way into the night.

**0700, Smoking Forest**

A light hot rain shower passes through the trees. The sky clears, revealing a charred and exotic foliage. Birds are beginning to sing but otherwise, all is silent. The dense growth seems impenetrable, but from a wall of solid undergrowth, a hand appears and signals in a downward motion.

As if by the Force's will, the assault team materializes, quietly, cautiously. CA-4878 makes another gesture and the team moves forward in perfect harmony in point-lock step, taking their cues from RZ-0619, the point man. 4878, highly focused and alert to every sound and movement, follows 0619, as if organically connected.

Descending the steep volcano slope, the team encounters an even denser growth of forest, at times moving by instinct, as they are often visually separated. At one point CA-4878 checks his electro-compass of his bucket's HUD, flashing some hand signals to RZ-0619, indicating a new direction. RZ-0619 nods and moves on. 4878 signaling to the rest of the stormtroopers.

BL-2673, in a defensive position, sweeps the forest slowly with his E-11b blaster . He steps back and turns, checking, revealing behind him the wreckage of an Imperial Army MAAT/i, hanging upside down, twenty feet above the ground, entangled vines in the heavy canopy, badly damaged, wings bent, it's engine section blown away.

A grappling hook is hurled from the ground, clattering into the cargo hold, hooking the edge of the airframe. RZ-0619 moves cautiously, searching for trip wires, using his vibro-blade to check the edges of the seats and door frames. Grimly he glances at the two bodies slumped over the controls and then exits, snapping into and rappelling down the rope to the ground. He joins CA-4878 standing on the forest floor. They look up watching as Dante through the cockpit, searching through pouches and compartments. CA-4878 turns his back to the MAAT/i.

RZ-0619 speaks, "The pilots have each got one blaster round in the head. And whoever hit it stripped the fark out of it." 4878 studies the clearing, eyes always moving, wary. He turns back, looking at the MAAT/i.

"Took 'em out with a heat seeker."

"There's something else. Major..." 0619 continued.

"Mmmnnn...?"

"I don't think this was any ordinary army taxi..." 4878 looks at him quizzically. "...looks more like a surveillance bird to me."

Dante rappels down the line and approaches. "Have you picked up their trail yet?"

4878 taps RZ-0619 on the shoulder and he moves away. CA-4878 turns to Dante, "BZ's on it." indicates the MAAT/i, "Heat seeker. Pretty sophisticated for half-assed rebel mountain boys."

"They're getting better equipped every day."

BZ-2946 approached from the forest canopy. "Major, looks like there were ten, maybe twelve rebels. Looks like they took some prisoners from the transport." points, "Then a different set of track, over there."

"What do you mean?" 4878 asked puzzledly.

"Six others, Imperial issue jungle boots. They came in from the north, then followed the rebels."

4878 turns to Dante. "Mean anything to you?"

"Probably another rebel patrol. They operate in here all the time."

CA-4878 is obviously concerned about this. He turns to BZ, "Get ahead, see what you can find." to RZ-0619, "Slow and easy." to Dante, "We don't want any accidents." BZ-2946 takes up the trail, disappearing into the forest. RZ-0619 signals, the team moves out.

As BZ-2946 reconnoiters, RZ-0619 looks back and gives a sign, CA-4878 nods and rappels down a cliff. As he joins 0619, there seem to be lavaflies everywhere. "What's he got?"

RZ-0619 answers quietly, "Same business, rebels hauling two guys from the MAAT/i...followed by troopers with Imperial equipment..." RZ-0619 seems concerned by this. 4878 signals him to move on.

Before he follows, 4878 looks around, "There's something dodgy about this." he whispers. Over his head a lavafly sits on a limb.

As the assault team passes below, a lavafly lands on what appears to be the charred bark of a tree. It fans it's wings and flies on. The impression of the lavafly remains in perfect relief, as if imprinted on the bark. The image fades, revealing for an instant a grid work of tiny scales on the bark. The bark moves! Changing colors, like a chameleon, revealing for an instant the form of something alive as it flows into the leaves, once again becoming indistinguishable from the surrounding foliage.

Two eyes, faintly flowing yellow, appear in the foliage. They blink, disappearing, and then become visible again. Seen through heat-seeking vision, studying the team's careful, silent movements as they pass by. The sounds of the forest are also altered and enhanced with an electric, static-like quality. The observer scans over the stormtroopers...and then focuses on CA-4878 as he crouches down, signaling forward and rear with a circular motion. He refers to an object in his hand, studying it carefully.

Using a holomap in lining out a course with his HUD's electrocompass. The other team members appear, silently, clustering around him. Using hand signals, CA-4878 indicates the course change.

The creature watches closely as 4878 continues with his hand signals, instructing his team.

The hillside of a steep valley, dark and foreboding. BZ-2946 passes by and halts, removing his vibro-blade. With his other glove he pulls down from overhead a thick vine, severing it. A thin stream of water emerges, which he removes his helmet, and drinks.

Suddenly he stops, letting the water drip to the ground. He quietly releases the vine and brings his imperial repeater rifle to bear, listening intently. Something seems wrong. He brings his eyes upward and stares, hard into the treeline of the opposing hillside. As his eyes strain to penetrate the dense, intertwined canopy, he is engulfed by the rising sounds of the forest, a cacophony of buzzing and clicking, amplified in the sweltering heat of the Mustafarian day. Unable to locate a source to account for his anxiety, he relaxes, moving on, resuming the track.

BZ-2946 examines the ground as he moves, growing confused and puzzled by what he sees before him. He stops, scrutinizing the forest, probing the world around him with his keen senses. Hearing a faint rustling sound he looks up, seeing a curtain of deep purplish moss several feet away. He takes a cautious step forward, extending his blaster. He reaches forward with his free hand, touching the moss.

Behind the curtain a slight shifting of dark forms occurs. He pauses and then with a sudden movement, sweeps the moss aside..

A black explosion of fluttering wings as carrion-eating leathery birds rush past BZ-2946's body.

2946's face seizes into a mask of horror, his expression descending into a state of complete primitive shock, his polarized lenses in his bucket stare transfixed, inches away from the leering death-grin of a Mustafarian face, upside down, completely stripped of skin.

Reeling, his body numbed by the sight before him, he stumbles backwards and stops. Vines threaded through their Achilles tendons, the bodies of two human stormtroopers and a Northern Mustafarian scout, skinned and gutted, hang suspended in the thick, suffocating air, buzzing with insects.

BZ-2946 turns away as RZ-0619 quietly enters the clearing, CA-4878 directly behind him. RZ-0619 stares at the bodies, now seen to be in the first stage of deterioration, strips of flesh torn away by the birds and other scavengers. In an almost childlike manner, he performs and ancient anti-sith hex gesture. "By the Emperor..." he whispers.

4878 moves into the clearing, kneeling beside a bloody pile of clothing and entrails. He examines the clothing and then rises, holding a imperial code cylinder on a broken chain. He reads the tag, his face growing hardened and bitter as he stares down at the rank squares on the clothing, recognizing one of the corpses.

"JS-9640, Captain, Imperial Army..." 4878's eyes move from the bloody cylinder to the bodies, coldly, "MA, Cut them down." MA-7839 moves forward, withdrawing his vibro-blade, the blade flashes, cutting the vine as the first body thuds to the ground. He bends over, picking up other code cylinders and rank squares.

4878 turns to Dante. "I knew this trooper. Imperial Commando 501st, out of Vader's Fist. What the hell were they doing in here? You got any answers for this, Dante?"

Stunned Dante responds, "Emperor's eyes...this is inhuman." to 4878, "I wasn't told of any operations in this area. They shouldn't have been here."

"Well somebody sent them." 4878 growls angrily, and walks off. MA-7839 steps out of the clearing, sheathing his vibro-blade with a violent gesture, passing RZ-0619.

RZ-0619 is seething, "Must have run into the rebels...Farking animals."

MA-7839 moves alongside BL-2673, "Ain't no way for a stormtrooper to die." looks at BL-2673, "Time to let 'ol 'painless' out of the bag." Grimly, BL-2673 rips apart the closures of the canvas bundle slung across his shoulder, revealing a truly awesome blaster, a six-barreled mini- E-Web adapted for field combat.

BZ-2946 kneels at the side of the original trail examining the ground. He rises, holding a spent power cartridge. CA-4878 approaches, kneeling beside him. "What happened here, 2946?"

BZ-2946 looks at him, puzzled. "Strange, Major. There was a blaster fight. Shooting in all directions."

"I can't believe JS-9640 walked into an ambush."

"I don't believe he did, Sir. I couldn't find a single track. Just doesn't make sense."

"What about the rest of JS-9640's troopers?"

2946 shakes his head, "No sign. They never left here, Major." pausing, "It's like they just disappeared."

4878 ponders for a moment. Then to BZ-2946, "Stick with the rebel trail," to the rest of the team, "Let's get it over with. We move. Five meter spread. No sound. Nothing."

BL-2673 feeds the tibanna magazine of belted-shells into the blaster, cocking it. He looks up at MA-7839, his eyes cold, his face taut with anger. "Payback time." 2673 hefts the mini- E-Web to his hip as 7839 draws back slightly on the breech bolt of the DLT-20A, letting it snap. They move on, BZ-2946 pausing to look at the forest before disappearing into the smoking foliage.

The observer carefully watches this exchange from high in the treetop canopy, then watches as 4878 turns and leaves the clearing, cautiously moving into the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

**1200, Forest Volcano-side**

MA-7839 appears suddenly, materializing out of the undergrowth, pausing cautiously, his senses alert, intense, almost nervous. He moves on, his huge plastoid-covered body barely making a sound as he weaves through the heavy undergrowth.

Dante appears. As he moves on, he crosses over a fallen tree, Stepping down, his boot breaks through a rotten portion, a chunk of log breaking free and rolling down the hill. Dante at once goes into a defensive position, listening. The forest is silent. He stands and starts to move forward. Suddenly MA-7839, his bucket removed, appears within inches of Dante's face. 7839's face is menacingly angry. MA-7839 hisses, barely audible, "You're ghostin' on me, wookiefarker!...I don't care who you are back on Imperial Center...You give away our position again and I'll bleed you quiet and leave your fierfekin' shebs right here." hisses and spits, "Got it?"

Dante's eyes are wide and fixed, staring back in cold hatred at 7839, controlling his rage...he knows the rules. Not waiting for a response, 7839 slips his helmet back on, turns and vanishes into the forest. Seething with anger Dante focuses on a still moving leaf and stem, indicating MA-7839's exit point. He moves on.

BL-2673 crouches under heavy foliage, waiting. He is joined by MA-7839. They glance briefly at each other, scanning in opposite directions for movement and sounds. They speak through the commo in their buckets, but still in whispers. BL-2673 asks "Say, Bull. What's goin' down? We got movement?"

"No, Schutta with his fancy ISB uniform and dee-coda-da cylinder was making enough noise to get us all waxed. I don't like that guy. Don't like him at my back. I ain't winding up like those bastards in white back there." MA-7839, sweating heavily in his temperature-controlled body glove, lifts his bucket again, wiping the moisture from his brow with his finger.

2673 pats the mini-E-Web affectionately, "I know what you mean, Bull, but don't sweat it, me and 'ol 'painless' here are watching the front door."

"As always, bro..." they do a gentle fist tap and smile through their helmets at each other. Two stormtroopers who have seen it all, through a dozen no-win situations, and have lived to tell about it. MA-7839 advances a few meters and signals slowly.

The assault team moves up the hill, barely visible in the heavy foliage, the team moves cautiously into defensive positions. Holding. A moment later they continue up the hill, crawling.

On their stomachs, CA-4878 and RZ-0619 clear the edge of the knoll, seeing below a rebel village, a huge, spreading palapa covering emplacements dug into a hillside, descending to a winding stream of lava below. Thirty rebels, dressed in a mixture of rebel fatigues and Southern Mustafarian civilian clothes, armed with Blastech A295 blaster rifles move about the camp. A heavy E-Web15 emplacement guards the entrance to the camp. Two rebels sit in the camouflaged emplacement.

CA-4878 sweeping the camp with his macrobinoculars, sees a rebel guard above the camp. One of the men picks up a hand-held PLX-4 portable missile launcher, placing it beside a bandolier of rockets and a sub-space commo set and consul taken from the Imperial surveillance MAAT/i as if preparing to take them away. 4878 puts down the macrobinoculars, looking at RZ-0619 who nods in agreement.

A sudden muffled cry brings 4878's attention to one end of the camp, where a heavily thatched door covers an opening to the palapa. A guard stands at the door. The door flies open as a hostage, shirtless, hands binded behind his back, staggers through the door as if kicked from behind. The man falls to the ground, feebly trying to regain his footing, the man's battered face and welt-covered back indicate he has been severely tortured.

Emerging from the palapa, a rebel leader mustached and wearing a sidearm, approaches the beaten man, kicking him viciously in the stomach, rolling him to his side. Kneeling beside the man he withdraws a sporting blaster from his holster and charges the weapon. Grabbing the man by the hair, he jams the muzzle into the man's ear and with a violent twist, pushes the firing stud. The rebel leader stands and strides quickly back to the palapa, still holding the blaster, closing the door behind him.

CA-4878, grim-faced at having witnessed the murder, lowers his macrobinoculars, a look of cold determination on his face. Quickly he and RZ-0619 ease down the escarpment, joining the other team members. 4878 makes a circling motion with his thumb and the team members gather in close, huddle formation. 4878 whispers angrily, "Just killed one of the prisoners. No time for invitations. We take them, now."

BL-2673 and MA-7839 crawl silently through the underbrush, with nearly impreceptable movements, 2673 slips out of the cartridge pack, ditching the mini-E-Web. He withdraws his combat vibro-blade, placing it in the grip of his power-glove. They move through the underbrush in tandem, like two big nexu, stalking. 7839 freezes, the sweat pouring from his helmet, holds up a hand as 2673 stops. Using a blade of grass, 7839 points out a trip wire, following it to a LX-1 laser flachette anti-personnel mine. 2673 grins, making a switching gesture. Carefully MA-7839 detaches the lead wires. Directing the mine towards the camp, he reattaches the wires, nodding at 2673.

The observer watches the team through heat-seeking vision, focused on BL-2673 and MA-7839, lying in the cooled magma dust and charred grass below, their bodies outlined in luminous aureoles. The observer sees the network of trip wires guarding the approaches to the E-Web nests. The wires glow as if electrified, standing out in hard-edged relief in contrast to the forest foliage. He moves higher into the forest canopy.

BZ-2946, on CA-4878's signal rises up, pulling a sentry to him, covering his mouth with his power-glove, jerking him backwards and to the side, knocking him off balance with a sweeping motion of his left leg, killing him with his vibro-blade.

CA-4878 belly crawls silently through the tall lava-grass just outside and above the main entrance to the camp. He stops, studying the ancient, rusted skeleton of a hovertruck parked on a level spot above the camp, its engine quietly idling. The truck is jacked and blocked up, one rear engine attached to a belt-drive leading to a pump, drawing water from a well nearby. In the open cab of the hovertruck a guard is on duty, watching the high ground above the camp. 4878 moves out, heading for the guard.

At the E-Web emplacement, while one rebel attends the equipment, the other attentively watched the approaches to the camp. He is momentarily distracted by a buzzing firefly, which he annoyingly swats at with his hand. He hears something to his side. Turning to investigate, the huge hamhock fist of MA-7839 smashes into his throat. Simultaneously, BL-2673 rises up behind the other rebel, grabs him by the hair, pulling him down, his combat vibro-blade driving downward.

Back at the Hovertruck a satchel charge is looped over the gearshift lever, resting on the floorboard, CA-4878, lying low across the seat of the truck, turns and looks, seeing the rebel guard, lying in a heap in the foliage.

RZ-0619 moves into position to the side and above the camp. He carefully checks the readiness of his Merr-Sonn six-shot thermal detonator launcher, also setting his WESTAR-M5 blaster rifle in front of him, ready for action.

CA-4878 crouched to the side of the truck, watches the camp, seeing below through the dense undergrowth, RZ-0619, barely visible, signaling. Before him are two fragmentation grenades. He looks at his chrono, and then up the hill to Dante and HK-2267.

Dante picks up his macrobinoculars, focusing on the E-Web15 emplacement, seeing a man, his face covered by a hat. The head rises, revealing the face of BL-2673, who looks above the camp and slightly nods. Putting the macrobinoculars down, he motions to HK-2267, "Ready, kid?" 2267 grins and nods. Together they slip through the lava-grass, downward towards the edge of the camp.

CA-4878 holds his huge commando vibro-machete on a diagonal, pushing through the belt, slicing it cleanly. Turning he crawls silently to the rear of the truck, positioning himself behind the rear of the one ton truck. He squats, and with an enormous, concentrated effort, dead lifts the rear of the truck, its rusted springs and frame beginning to creak and groan slightly. With a wookie effort he lifts the truck free of its blocks and then pushes it forward. He rolls aside, disappearing into the ground cover as the hovertruck, lops down the hill, slowly picking up speed.

A rebel, alerted by the sound of the approaching truck, looks up the hillside, seeing the vehicle still moving down the hill at a moderate drift. He calls out and several rebels leave their posts, moving out to prepare to stop the truck. The truck rolls into the clearing picking up speed, heading towards the main palapa, the men rush forward, surrounding the truck, trying to slow it down, but the truck drifts, smashing through the front wall of the palapa. The rebels gather around the truck and then look back up the hill.

The observer watches as CA-4878 pulls the pin and launches a grenade into the air, he follows its arc as it spirals dead-center into the camp, bouncing twice before rolling into the fuel dump...which a moment later, explodes into an incredible fireball. The expanding fireball released from the explosion is, to the observer, like an erupting sun, momentarily blinding him.

The hovertruck is blown up into the air by the explosion...a moment later the satchel charge detonates with an ear-splitting explosion, tearing the truck apart. CA-4878 jumps to his feet, firing his E-11b into the camp. 4878 races down the the hillside, joined by Dante, leaving HK-2267 to cover them. Plasma bolts burst around their feet as they run low, firing short bursts to their left and right.

CA-4878 fires an under-mounted thermal detonator launcher, sending a round into a blaster position in the trees, still running he breaks open the breach, slamming in another thermal detonator from the cartridge pack at his waist.

BL-2673 and MA-7839 fire the heavy E-Web15, laying down a withering curtain of plasma, shredding the camp, taking out five rebels at once. A rebel almost completely on fire is hit by the onslaught of blaster fire, ripping him back into the forest.

RZ-0619 cuts loose a barrage from the six-shooter...seconds later another E-Web emplacement erupts in a series of explosions, blowing two rebels into the air.

At the hillside hut, two rebels move into position by the viewport, drawing down on CA-4878 as he appears, racing down the hill. As they are about to open fire, Dante appears, yelling out a warning, "On your nine!!"

CA-4878 dives, hitting the ground as Dante opens fire, taking out the rebels. 4878 rolls to his feet, spins, firing the thermal detonator launcher, completely destroying the hut.

As the observer regains its vision an eerie, surreal experience of sight and sound unfolds. Plasma bolts streak through the air leaving blood-red trails of heat. As they impact into the rebels, he hears the enhanced slapping of bolts, seeing tiny blossoms of heat mushroom out of their bodies.

He hears the horrific, deformed cries and screams of dying men. Another searing explosion sends pieces of shrapnel ripping through the air, some of them roaring past the observer's position, like tiny meteors.

At the entrance of the main palapa, a rebel stands in the doorway, giving cover fire to his comrades as they fall back inside. Jumping from the roof of the adjoining palapa, BZ-2946 drops directly in front of the rebel. From the side, unseen by 2946, another rebel thrusts out with a vibro-blade, 2946 ducking backwards, the tip of the vibro-blade slashing the faceplate of his helmet. With a lightning move, BZ-2946 whips his arm up and around the rebel, locking his elbow, breaking the joint.

Still holding the man he fires, blowing the other rebel off his feet with the shotgun portion of his weapon. He looks at the rebel out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly strikes, breaking his neck, dropping him in a heap. 2946 continues on, racing down the stairs, firing his E-11.

Meanwhile, BL-2673 is crouched next to a tree, providing cover. Behind 2673, at the edge of the camp, circling from below, two rebels appear and fire a grenade round which explodes behind BL-2673, fragments ripping into the tree next to which 2673 is standing, bark and black magma flying as shrapnel rips into his armor, one piece tearing into his upper shoulder. The hits have no effect on the huge stormtrooper and with a savage growl, he spins, opening fire, raking the two attackers with the mini-E-Web.

Nearby MA-7839 charges from the forest on a dead run, diving over a fallen tree as blaster fire rakes the ground around him. 2673, spotting the sniper high in a tree, opens fire with the mini-E-Web, shredding the tree, sending the rebel crashing down through the roof of the palapa.

The sniper crashes through the roof, landing on the floor near HK-2267 and RZ-0619 who do a quick double take before opening fire on a group of fleeing rebels, taking out two, giving chase to the others.

CA-4878 and Dante appear at the top of the staircase, 4878 freezing as he sees below a rebel raising an A295, preparing to fire. 4878 tackles Dante, the two men hurling into the air, a moment later bolts rip into the crates behind where they were standing.

Dante rises up, kicking over the crate, shooting the rebel who is trying to bring the blaster around to fire at him. CA-4878 crouches, covering the upper entrances to the palapa, as RZ-0619 rushes past, joining 4878. From the corner of his eye, 4878 catches a movement. With a whipping, backhanded throw, he lets fly his vibro-machete...the machete impales the attacking rebel, driving him backwards, pinning him to a post.

"Stick around."

CA-4878 and RZ-0619 run towards the lower levels, side by side, firing as they go. They reach a door. 4878 taking out an attacking rebel. 0619 grabs the side of the door, shoots a look to 4878 and throws it open. With 4878 covering him, 0619 takes a quick peak inside and then rushes into the room.

At one end is a stairway, leading to an escape door. A rebel, seen from waist up, scrambles down the stairs. At the base of the stairs, a rebel, holding an A295 on his hip, turns and starts to fire. CA-4878 and RZ-0619 respond with full auto bursts, which rip into the rebel, spinning him around, knocking over a crude wooden table, scattering a case with a burning holopad, food cans, and liquor bottles. As the rebel soldier spins, he fires his blaster, an arcing line of bolts slamming into the metal roof, sending down a shower or rust and dirt. He falls to the ground. Dead.

RZ-0619 charges through the dust and thick smoke to cover the fallen men, 4878 following close behind, jerking a new power-cell from his ammo belt. Suddenly, another rebel erupts from behind some ammunition crates, drawing down on 0619 with a sporting blaster.

4878 shouts, "Down!"

As the rebel fires, CA-4878 smashes the butt of his empty blaster into the rebel's shoulder, knocking the blaster aside, the bolts thudding into the wall harmlessly. He hits the rebel with a glancing blow to the head with the barrel of his weapon. The rebel is hurled backwards, crashing into the wooden crates and to the floor.

RZ-0619, recovering quickly, descends the stairs with catlike agility, disappearing. CA-4878 crouches and spins, jamming a new clip into the blaster, scanning the palapa for any other movement. He races to the main door of the room, shouting into the palapa. He sees BL-2673 charging down the steps. Catching his attention he signals him on, out the back to cover 0619.

CA-4878 keys his commo in his helmet. "HK-2267, Get . On the hook! Position and situation, now!"

As BL-2673 runs down the stairs, 2267 already has the sub-space radio off his back. Setting up the portable satellite dish antenna. "You got it, Major!"

RZ-0619, BL-2673, and BZ-2946 race down the backstairs of the palapa, firing mini-E-Web, automatic, and grenade rounds at the escaping rebels as they flee the area, splashing, and scalding themselves, as they charge across a superheated shallow stream. The rebels are history...in no uncertain terms.

For the first time, CA-4878 studies the interior of the cavernous palapa, seeing the enormous stockpile of weapons, equipment, and supplies stacked along the walls, obviously a major military stronghold hidden deep within the volcanic mountains. MA-7839 hustles up to 4878, a look of urgency in his demeanor.

"Any sign of the hostages?" CA-4878 asks.

7839 nods, "We found 'em both, dead. And the gear from the MAAT/i. If they're Mustafarian, I'm a farkin Gungan. By the looks of 'em, I'd say our cabinet minister and his aide are ISB." he pauses, "Another thing, Major, we were lucky...couple of those guys we waxed are Corporate Authority Sector military advisers by the look of it. Something big was about to happen here."

CA-4878 looks at 7839 a moment, a flush of anger beginning to show. "Good work, MA. Clear the area, no traces. Get the troopers ready to move."

CA-4878 goes back into the room, looking down at the unconscious rebel, racking a round into the chamber, reloading his blaster. He kneels, staring at the face of a blue Twilek woman, late twenties. Despite her blood and dirt-smeared face, she is beautiful.

4878 closes his eyes, "E chu ta." He checks her pulse and then slowly he bends to pick up her blaster, releasing the stored tibanna gas. He stands, beginning to shuffle through the datapads scattered about the room. Staring at one, he looks up, the pieces falling together.

RZ-0619, at a crouch, runs through the forest, following the obvious signs of the rebel's retreat. He emerges from the trees into an opening, leading to a sheer rock cliff, towering twenty meters above the ground. Scanning the wall, he sees movement and quickly takes cover, as automatic blaster-fire rips up the ground before him.

Near the center of the rock wall a narrow cut, two feet wide, leads to the top of the cliff, giving access to the adjoining ridge. Two rebels scramble up the chimney, assisted by a rope, which with they'll withdraw as they reach the top. 0619 takes out one man, the other taking cover, returning fire.

BL-2673 joins 0619, behind cover at the foot of the cliff. As they take cover, 0619 notices the wound on 2673's shoulder. "You're hit. You're bleedin' man."

BL-2673 looks briefly at the wound. "Ain't got time to bleed."

On a signal, they both clear cover and fire long bursts from their blasters up the cliff. The smoke is hardly cleared when they are answered by withering fire. They duck down as a grenade explodes nearby. RZ-0619 quickly replaces the thermal detonator rounds in the six-shooter.

BL-2673 growls, "Son of a Hutt's dug in like a Geonosian tick...jack us around all day."

"Hell, man, we don't have all day." RZ-0619 immediately rolls into the line of fire, blasting six rapid-fire shots on a high arc trajectory towards the rocks.

2673 reacts, "E chu ta, RZ!!" BL-2673 dives against the protective cover of the rock wall, covering his head. 0619 casually hops across, squatting next to 2673. They make eye contact.

"What's your problem, man?" Before BL-2673 can answer, 0619 puts his fingers over his external mikes and grimaces just as...the entire hillside explodes, blowing the rebels into the air, a torrent of vegetation and cooled lava raining down the cliff, obscuring BL-2673 and RZ-0619.

CA-4878 is staring out the viewport, his blaster slack in one arm, still holding the datapad. Dante enters, obviously excited about what he has found. He sees the datapads on the floor. He reads through them quickly, growing even more excited. "This is beautiful! More than we ever thought. We got the scum!"

4878 turns, striding towards Dante, handing him the datapad he is holding. "I think this is the one you want."

Dante reads it, "Two days...that's all we had. In two days, three hundred of these scum would have equipped with all of this. After they crossed the border, it would have taken a year to stop them." looks up at 4878, "We've averted a major rebel invasion, CA..."

CA-4878 moves in close to Dante, face to face, anger glaring in his eyes. "It was all Sithspit. All of it. From the start...you set us up, got us to do your dirty work."

"That's right, I set you up. You're a veteran at this, CA, I had to."

"Why us?"

"Because I told you, you're the best. I knew you could do it but I couldn't get you in here without a cover story."

"What story did you give to JS-9640?"

"We've been looking for this place for months. The MAAT/i must have gotten close when they got shot down. JS-9640 was sent in to get my men. He was doing his job. When he disappeared I had to clean this up. I had to stop these scum. We were so close, we couldn't quit. We couldn't sleep through this one. I needed you, CA, can't you see that?"

"To invade a foreign country without Moff approval? You lied, Dante. Stacked the odds against us. Set us up. You could have got us all killed." pauses, looking at Dante, "You used to be one of us, Dante, someone I could trust with my life..."

"We've been through a lot together, CA. When we were together, no one could stop us, the hottest commando team the Imperial Army ever saw. But things changed, I woke up. We're fighting them on a thousand different planets. It's a fight we can't lose, CA. We're all expendable assets, can't you see that"

CA-4878 takes the datapad from Dante's hands, "That's your problem, Dante. You always did put ambition before the lives of you men." pauses, "My troopers are not expendable. I don't do this kind of work." Crushes the datapad in his power-glove. "This is your dirty little war, not mine." he stuffs the crumpled datapad into Dante's vest pouch.

The Twilek, regaining consciousness, groans, a heavy flow of blood running down her face from her head wound. HK-2267 appears at the door. "Major!"

CA-4878 turns away from Dante and steps through the doorway into the palapa as the Twilek moans again, mumbling something in Ryl. Dante kneels, beside her. Quietly he speaks in Twileki, "Are you all right?"

CA-4878 is talking to HK-2267 who has the field commo set up on a crate just outside the door. "Major, we stepped into some real poodoo here. I got a hook-up with orbital surveillance."

"Movement?"

HK-2267 nods, "Rebels swarming like flies all over the place. Can't be more than one, maybe two kilometers away. Place is going down, Major.'

"How much time?"

"Half an hour, maybe less."

CA-4878 touches him on the shoulder. "Tell MA we move in five."

He starts to walk away, when Dante speaks, "She goes with us." 4878 turns, Dante is at the doorway, supporting the still groggy Twilek. "She's too valuable. She's got to know their whole network. The whole set up. We take her with us."

"We take her and she'll give away our position, every chance she gets. No prisoners, Dante."

Dante grabs the handset from HK-2267's commo, shoving it at CA-4878. "You're still under orders, CA. You want to make the call, or should I?"

4878 looks at the handset. Then at Dante, he knows Dante's won. He starts to walk away but stops, turning back, pointing a finger at Dante. "I'm getting my troopers out of this damn forest, Dante. She's your baggage. You fall behind, you're on your own."

**1300, Smoking Forest overlooking camp**

CA-4878 and BZ-2946 are kneeling on the ground near the trailhead, studying a holomap. Behind them the team, hidden, covers the hillside approaches to the camp, nervous and wary, blasters ready. "This place is too hot for a pick-up. They won't touch us until we're over the border. We can lift off at LZ 49, here." points at the holomap, "Orbital Recon says we're cut off." points at the map again, "Except for this valley."

BZ-2946 shakes his head, following the contour lines of the rugged terrain. "Looks bad, Major. It's gonna be a real Hutt." points at the map, "If we follow above the magma-floe and then down, here, at this canyon, we might find a way out."

4878 turns to RZ-0619, kneeling close by. "Not much choice. RZ, take the lead. Double time it."

He turns and looks at Dante, the Twilek at his side, her forehead bandaged, her hands in shock-binders in front of her. He turns back to the others. "Lock n' load, watch your shebs."

BL-2946 moves out, swinging the mini-E-Web in front of him as he goes.

The Observer watches as Dante leads the Twilek onward, seeing her bound hands. Dante pushes her.

The Twilek spins, hurling a string of insults to Dante in Twileki. "You touch me again, Imperial pig, and I will cut off your balls!"

Dante responds in Ryl, "It's a long walk back, make it easy on yourself." She spits at him, turning forward with a twist of her head. Dante picks up his pack, shouldering it. As they move on MA-7839 quietly calls out to him. "Hey, Dante, over here."

Dante doesn't respond. 7839 repeats himself louder, "Dante, over here."

Dante turns and approaches, warily, holding the girl. "Yeah, what is it, Sergeant?"

MA-7839 unsheathes his long vibro-blade. He gives Dante a cold look and turns him by the shoulders. Crawling across the pack on Dante's back is a huge Magpion. 7839 skewers the magpion with the tip of his blade, holding it before the wincing Dante. The Twilek smirks, nodding to the writhing, stinging insect. In Twileki, "When my people catch you, you'll wish you were him."

Dante looks at 7839, "Thanks."

"Anytime." MA-7839 flings the magpion to the ground, crushing it with his boot. He looks up at Dante, walks away. Dante follows, pulling the Twilek behind him.

BZ-2946, guarding the rear, glances furtively around the clearing. He moves a step forward and stops, freezing. Slowly he turns back, his eyes riveted upon the treeline above the camp. His eyes strain, his senses registering a fear he cannot name or see. Something is out there, in the trees, waiting, watching. 2946 turns and walks into the forest, pausing one last time to look behind him before he too disappears from sight.

The forest grows silent.

The Observer looks down from his vantage point to the treeline below, terraces like stepping stones, focusing on a tree, twenty meters away. The Observer utters a low trill and springs outward into space, hurtling downward towards his landing point, the canopy of smoking trees approaching in a staccato rush of deep purples and blues. The sounds of the forest are again altered and enhanced with an electric, static-like quality as the Observer descends fluidly through the trees to the ground.

He enters the camp, surveying the terrible destruction and carnage. He sees the dead rebels, the dissipating heat from their bodies leaving them pale and ghost-like, as if fading light about to extinguish. He sees their blasters, the cold hard durasteel of the barrels registering ice-blue in his vision.

As his hand appears, pulsing in a pale magenta heat, low to the ground, holding his weapon. He lays down the weapon, picking up the magpion, turning it slowly in his fingers, examining it. It looks like an exotic flower, its color fading from sight, turning to black.

A low sound is uttered, something vaguely familiar about it: A nearly human voice, a distorted imitation of MA-7839, filtered, "Dante, over here."

Again the phrase is uttered, improving, closer to 7839's inflection and accent. "Dante, over here." The Observer lowers the pitch. "Dante, over here." The last effort is a chilling simulation of MA-7839's voice.

The observer drops the magpion and picks up the weapon which changes instantly back to the Observer's skin tones. He turns and focuses on the area where the team left camp. He crouches and springs to the lower branches of a tree, grasping them with his clawed, three-fingered hands, pulling himself up and through the branches with astounding speed and simian-like dexterity; his spurred prehensile feet, grasping and thrusting him to a vantage point, twenty meters above the ground. As he moves on, the smoking forest grows suddenly quiet, as if aware, sensing that the Hunter is now stalking, no longer observing.


	3. Chapter 3

**1400, Smoking Forest valley**

The twilight world of a prehistoric forest, filled with gigantic plants and towering trees, overgrown with vines and creepers. Magma pools lay interspersed amongst the charred trees. The team, with BZ-2946 at point, walk alongside a wandering lava stream bed, weirdly illuminated by shafts of light, streaming through the openings in the trees, as if from spotlights, a hundred feet above.

It is early afternoon, hot and humid, the air buzzing with the sounds of insects, the crying of birds and animals. The stormtroopers are moving fast and quiet, straining to see into the dense foliage, aware of every sound, sweating, quietly slapping at biting insects.

A giant hardwood tree lies across their path. As the troopers climb over a rotten section, MA-7839 stops to assist BL-2673 with his mini-E-Web, "I've seen some bad-sheb bush before, but nothing like this, man" pauses, "Little taste of home?"

2673 nods and pauses to rest, looking around him as 7839 withdraws a small silver pocket flask. He takes a nip, passing the flask to 2673 who also takes a sip. "I hear you bro, this is some poodoo. Makes Felucia look like Tatooine. Lose your way in here, man, you be in some kinda hurt." BL-2673 hands back the flask, 7839 replaces it inside his pouch. They do their hand dap, looking warily behind them before they move on.

Dante and the Twilek have fallen behind, Dante looking worriedly ahead at the team out distancing them. The Twilek is keeping her pace purposefully slow. She trips on a root, falling to the ground. She lies there motionless. He quickly reaches down to haul her to her feet. "E chu ta. Come on..."

Like an uncoiled spring, the Twilek turns, flinging a handful of dried magma dust into his face, momentarily blinding him. She lunges for his blaster with her bound hands. Suddenly the barrel of a WESTAR M5 is thrust in her face.

Looking up she sees RZ-0619, calmly holding the blaster rifle on her, the look in his polarized lenses indicating he'd have no trouble shooting her. In Ryl, "Don't try it." She looks back at Dante, wiping the magma from his own lenses. She moves on. RZ-0619 gives him a cold look as Dante hurries past. Coolly, "You should put her on a leash, ISB Agent Man. If you can't handle her, just say the word."

Dante moves on, ignoring 0619, who turns, scanning the forest behind him before moving on. Dante catches up with the Twilek, turning her sharply by the chin. In cold Twileki, "Try that again. Please." She looks at him contemptuously, undaunted. She will try it again. She breaks away from his grasp and moves on, Dante watching her go, he won't hesitate next time.

The Hunter travels, directly overhead, timing his movement with those of the team. He moves closer to the slower moving humans.

The stormtrooper team moves cautiously through the winding magma bed, now wearing their clothing in various stages of disarray for comfort, sweat dripping from their bodies. BZ-2946, in the lead, picks his way along the magma riverbank, his concentration rapt, aboriginal. His face a trance like mask of expectation.

BL-2673, cradling the heavy mini-E-Web as if it were a toy, swings the blaster relentlessly across his field of view, his bucket hangs from his belt. He pauses to adjust the hanging, belted loop of gas cartridges trailing from the back pack magazine. An insect lands on his face and is trapped in the grease paint near his lips. He draws the hapless bug into his mouth with his tongue and quietly spits it out, his concentration unbroken.

MA-7839 follows, holding his DLT-20A high across his chest armor.

CA-4878, bent, cautious, his feet moving aside the dry leaves on the ground, heel to toe and on foot edges. He glances around, checking the team's position and progress.

HK-2267 follows, his mouth agape under his bucket, breathing deeply, exhausted, the sub-space radio a 60 pound demon.

The Twilek, struggling to climb a section of the lava stream bank, slips on some loose dirt. Unable to assist herself with her hands tied, she nearly falls. Dante prods her with his blaster, forcing her to her feet. She scrambles up the bank, Dante following.

As BZ-2946 enters a small clearing, bordered on one side by the towering trees, carpeting the volcano side. High above in the thick, impenetrable treeline, brightly colored birds squawk loudly, chasing each other from branch to branch. Suddenly BZ-2946 stops. CA-4878 holds up his hand and the team freezes in position. An eerie silence, like a slowly falling curtain, descends over the forest until even the buzzing and clicking of insects have ceased.

Sensing an ambush, the stormtroopers move quietly into the foliage. Dante moves into the undergrowth, dragging the Twilek with him. He slings his E-11b over his shoulder, withdrawing his vibro-blade. Grasping the Twilek by her shirt collar and pushing her to the ground, he holds the weapon near her throat. Dante signals to RZ-0619 who approaches. Dante hands 0619 the vibro-blade.

"Watch her." Before RZ-0619 can respond, Dante slips into the undergrowth. 0619 holds the vibro-blade on the Twilek, cautiously scanning around him for movement. Unseen by 0619, the Twilek's outstretched hand slowly tightens around a stout root-burl, lying loose on the ground.

BZ-2946 remains frozen and transfixed, staring into the treeline. Something is moving, fluid, silently and downward, into the forest. 2946 remains rooted to the spot, lost in concentration.

CA-4878 senses something very wrong with 2946, moves alongside MA-7839. "What's got BZ so spooked?"

"Can't say, Major...been squirrely all mornin'...farkin' weird...sometimes I think that nose of his is too good...smells things that ain't there." CA-4878 signals to 7839 to cover him and then moves low and quiet towards BZ-2946. Dante appears, looking to MA-7839 for an explanation. 7839 ignores him, concentrating on the forest. Dante looks forward at...

BZ-2946, his eyes riveted to the canopy above, as he unconsciously reaches to his throat, grasping a dewback leather pouch, secured to his neck by a thong. He fingers the medicine bag talisman.

The Hunter slowly descends through the trees, moving towards BZ-2946, who's eyes search the treeline for movement.

CA-4878 approaches 2946, gripping his shoulders and in a hoarse whisper, speaks his name. "BZ, what is it...?"

BZ-2946, rigid, does not respond. 4878 forcefully jerks him around to face him. "BZ...What the hell's wrong with you?"

2946 speaks as low as he can, "Something...in the trees..."

The Hunter is still closing on BZ-2946. 2946 turns back, looking high in the trees, puzzled and frightened. He's lost sense of the Hunter's presence. He lowers his vision, looking towards the Hunter, now on the ground, thirty meters across the clearing from BZ-2946. The Hunter pauses.

BZ-2946 whispers, "Can't you see anything..." points, "...there?"

CA-4878 stares hard at the forest. "It's...nothing...."

The Hunter moves behind a broad bush, skirting around BZ-2946 and CA-4878, heading away from the column.

CA-4878 shakes his head, continuing to stare into the forest. He turns to BZ-2946. "What do you think...?"

2946 turns, a puzzled look in his eyes. He nods in agreement. "It's nothing..."

Sensing the danger has passed, RZ-0619 releases his grip on the Twilek. As they start to rise, 0619 sheaths his vibro-blade and unslings his WESTAR M5. The Twilek still stares hard into the forest. Suddenly, without even looking, the Twilek with the trained reflexes of an experienced fighter swings the burl with all her might, catching 0619 hard on the side of his bucket, just above the lens, opening a wicked gash. Spinning around she knees him brutally in the groin. As RZ-0619 goes down, doubled over in pain, the Twilek turns, scrambling up the embankment, running for the forest.

RZ-0619 cries out.

Hearing 0619's cry, CA-4878 signals to HK-2267 to move. 2267 moves out, fast, heading towards the sound...2267 sees the Twilek running away. He gives chase. The Twilek, although bound, is light and fit and runs fast, hurdling logs and branches, charging through the undergrowth. She has a good start.

HK-2267, hampered by the commo and blaster but in tremendous shape, thunders after her, closing the distance.

The Hunter passes from behind a large tree, surrounded by dense foliage, seeing the fleeing Twilek. He watches her and then begins to move parallel with her, only faster, the purples, blacks, and blues of the forest rushing by in a blur.

The Twilek bursts through a grove of black-blue ferns, drives on, breathing hard with the exertion. HK-2267, ten meters behind, closing the distance, taking advantage of any hesitation the Twilek makes, struggling with the dense forest. The girl hits a small clearing, an alleyway through the trees. She sprints hard across the clear ground.

The Hunter moves through the forest. As he steps clear of the foliage he sees the Twilek driving hard into the alleyway, running directly towards him. Twenty meters away, HK-2267, closes in.

2267 is only a meter behind the rebel and lunges forward, knocking her to the ground. In a second he's on her, his blaster ready. She struggles to her feet, fighting, gasping for breath. HK-2267 holds the E-11 on her, looking at her, almost pleading. He doesn't want to shoot her, but he will if he has to.

"Please..."

She looks at the blaster, to HK-2267 and then hopefully to the forest. She stops, staring hard down the alleyway. Something...suddenly she sees it! In Ryl, "Look out, behind you!"

HK-2267 spins...seeing the mottled outline of the Hunter's body, racing towards them, as if the entire wall of the forest were rushing in. The Hunter's weapon flares to life.

The Hunter hurtles towards them, their faces frozen in surprise.

A splitting thud as HK-2267 is hurtled backwards into the undergrowth. The Hunter's hand and weapon flashing through the air. Blood splashes across the Twilek's face. She screams as HK-2267's E-11 fires a short burst into the air.

Hearing the blaster-fire, CA-4878 whistles low and sharp. RZ-0619, face bloody, swings into action, moving in a coordinated defensive/offensive pattern into the forest.

The Hunter's arm and spur hook into HK-2267's leg, and he is dragged into the forest.

RZ-0619 runs forward ten paces, drops to a crouch, scanning to each side. Immediately CA-4878 runs forward twenty paces. As he passes 0619, 0619 turns and scans the rear and flanks. Dante, MA-7839, and BL-2673 repeat the maneuver, leap-frogging forward, canvassing the forest, providing areas of intersecting cover.

RZ-0619 enters the alleyway where HK-2267 was killed and sees the Twilek girl, cowering in the bushes, her blood splattered face glazed with terror, her eyes vacant. He approaches, angry, wary, but the girl is so stunned. He sees the trail of blood and crushed grasses leading into the forest. He gives a low whistle and then moves on, the rest of the stormtroopers assuming defensive positions around the clearing.

He follows the trail, finding first HK-2267's blood-covered blaster, and then, a few yards later, the sub-space radio. RZ-0619 cautiously parts the brush before him. A look of puzzlement and then revulsion comes across his face.

BL-2673 and MA-7839 arrive at the alleyway at both ends, cautiously searching the forest. BZ-2946 covering their flanks. CA-4878 and Dante approach the Twilek. She seems unaware of their presence, staring numbly ahead. 4878 checks her out, looking for wounds, he wipes some of the blood from her face. "It's not her blood."

RZ-0619 emerges from the forest carrying HK-2267's E-11 blaster and commo. He approaches, dumping the equipment on the ground. "Major, you'd better take a look at this."

"HK-2267?"

RZ-0619 responds oddly, "I can't tell."

Dante follows behind them, as RZ-0619 parts the brush with his blaster. Before them, covered with dirt and leaves, are HK-2267's entrails. There is no body. CA-4878 is shocked, "What in the Emperor's name...?"

"I think it's HK."

"Where the hell is his body?"

"There's no sign of it."

Back at the alleyway the entire team is gathered, still holding defensive positions. The Twilek, still stunned, is beginning to come around. She looks up at CA-4878. He turns to RZ-0619. "RZ, ask her what happened."

RZ-0619 drops to one knee and talks softly to her in twileki. She mutters incoherently in twileki, still dazed, shaking her head. Dante listens closely to her response. 0619 turns to CA-4878, he seems confused. "She says...the forest came alive, and took him..."

Dante, "That isn't what she said...she said..." pondering to 0619, "...she doesn't make sense."

RZ-0619 growing angry. "Couple of sappers been trailing us all the way from the camp, Major. BZ heard them. She set us up, ran for it...They were waiting. I should've wasted this tailhead when I had the chance."

CA-4878, looking at HK-2267's bloodstained equipment lying at the Twilek's feet, looks up. "Why didn't they take the commo and his blaster?" quietly, "Why didn't she escape?"

Dante looks at the equipment and then the girl, still numb with shock. "They did the same thing to JS-9640..."

The two veteran stormtroopers look at each other. Finding no explanation between them. CA-4878, urgently to the team, "I want him found. Sweep pattern and double back. Fifty meters."

They move out. CA-4878 moves into the forest, searching. He crouches at the base of a huge black-barked Magma-Oak, covered with purple-red vines, studying the forest. He moves away from the tree and into the forest, looking for signs on the ground.

Where he was sitting, a drop of blood falls. Another drop falls, dripping from a leaf and above that, from another leaf. Above that, high in the top of the tree, suspended from vines from his ankles is HK-2267's body, his chest a gaping wound. He hangs there as if he were an animal, field dressed.

BL-2946 is crouched in the undergrowth. There is movement in the brush before him. He wipes the sweat from his neck under his bucket, and clicks the safety on the mini-E-Web to fire. The sound is growing closer. 2946 levels the weapon. A smile crosses his face. Whispering, "Come on in farkers...come on in. 'ol 'painless' is waiting'..."

The movement in the brush is growing louder. BL-2946's finger moves closer to the trigger. Suddenly a large lava-flea bursts through the leaves, startling 2946. He relaxes momentarily as he watched the meter-tall insect scurrying from sight. He stands...

Something grazes his shoulder, a gout of blood erupting. He starts to turn, the mini-E-Web held low, ready to fire...from out of the forest, thirty meters away, the Hunter's weapon streaks at him like a proton torpedo. He screams as it enters his back, erupting from his chest in an explosion of blood.

MA-7839 has heard BL-2673's cry. He moves fast through the brush. He hears a rustling in the bushes. A wet sucking sound. 7839 charges into the clearing. In the instant before the Hunter disappears into the forest. MA-7839 sees a vision so brief and fantastic that it seems like a hallucination.

The Hunter's eyes flare momentarily from the green before they vanish.

MA-7839 sees his friend, lying on the ground, his chest open, the powerful stormtrooper, dead. He shouts, "Contact, 30 right!" He opens fire with his DLT-20A, belted tibanna gas shells slamming into the weapon from the magazine at his waist, expending it in one long burst.

The other team members are flying though the forest, blasters ready, eyes searching for movement.

MA-7839 throws down the weapon and with a cry of rage, lunges forward to grab the mini-E-Web. As he stands, the cartridge belt, attached to BL-2673, strings out between them. He opens fire and the foliage before him explodes with the fury of the terrible blaster. 7839 sweeps the mini-E-Web from left to right, like a man possessed, mowing down the forest.

The other team members race into sight and begin firing with MA-7839. RZ-0619 opens fire with the six-shooter thermal detonator launcher...explosions rock the forest.

The Hunter is moving. A piece of shrapnel cuts his shoulder. A splash of orange blood splatters across the leaves of a nearby tree, plasma bolt holes ripping through the surrounding foliage.

More firing. MA-7839, his blaster expended, continues to thrust the mini-E-Web forward, still squeezing the trigger. Suddenly, as quickly as it started, the firing stops. The stormtrooper move nexu-like into the forest, reloading, searching, their nerves taut, stretched to the limit, ready to fire again at any second. MA-7839 is frozen, eyes wide, unblinking, his breath coming in rapid gasps as he stares into the forest, still squeezing the trigger of the weapon, its breech locked open, cyrosteam wafting from the chamber and barrel.

CA-4878 moves in front of 7839, still staring into the forest. Dante pushes the Twilek into the clearing, moving towards the body. The Twilek looks at the dead stormtrooper and then up to MA-7839. CA-4878 sees a terrifying moment of recognition flash in her eyes as she continues to stare at 7839. He turns to 7839, the stormtrooper sergeant is confused, "I...saw it."

At these words, the Twilek reacts in shock, drawing a sharp breath. 4878 turns, seeing her staring at MA-7839. He turns back. "You saw what?"

"I saw it." MA-7839 answers still dazed.

CA-4878 turns back to see the blue Twilek, staring fixedly at MA-7839. 4878 turns quickly to BL-2673's body and kneels alongside Dante. 4878 is shocked at the sight of the mutilated body. "BL...just like the other...no laser burns, no shrapnel."

"The wound all fused, cauterized...what the hell did this?"

CA-4878 stands, looking at the body. Behind them the Twilek drifts away from the group. 4878 speaks to 7839, "...MA!"

MA-7839 stares ahead, dumbly, not hearing. He grabs 7839 by his shoulders, shaking him violently back to awareness. "MA! MA! Look at me!"

7839 turns to face CA-4878, "MA, who did this?"

MA-7839 is suddenly angry and frustrated, he has no explanation. "I don't know. Emperor be damned, something...I saw something."

RZ-0619 runs from the forest, breathing hard, shaking his head. "Nothing. The same thing. Not a farking trace. No bodies, blood, anything."

MA-7839 stands. Instinctively the team has now grouped around CA-4878, their blasters pointing into the forest, ready, their nerves on total edge. CA-4878 looks upwards at the darkening red sky. "We're losing the light. MA, I want a defensive position above this ridge, mined with everything we've got."

MA-7839 is again the hardened professional. "Yessir."

CA-4878 looks down at BL-2673's body. He turns to RZ-0619 and BZ-2946. "Put him in his poncho and liner and carry him back. We'll bury him in the morning."

7839 interrupts, "I'll take him."

The Twilek hardly watches the team, her attention focused on something clinging to the leaves, well of to the side of where MA-7839 saw the Hunter. She draws closer, reaching out, hesitant, as if drawn magnetically to the leaves. Clinging to the leaves, thick, viscous, pale-orange, almost like the sap of an exotic plant. Her blue fingers hover above it, hesitantly, and then touches it.

She examines the blood, transfixed. Dante appears at her shoulder, startling her. He motions for her to return. She turns, wiping the blood onto her pants leg.


	4. Chapter 4

**2000, Encampment, Smoking Forest**

The team is dug into the foxholes in a dense grove of trees, a solid wall to their backs. The stormtroopers are barely visible they blend in so well.

Nearby, MA-7839 is stringing up a tripwire, low to the ground, covering it with black leaves and grass. He moves into the camp and reports to CA-4878. "We've got most of the flares, frags, and two more laser-flachettes just outside. Nothin's comin' close to here without trippin' on somethin'."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

MA-7839 starts to go but CA-4878 places his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bull. It's never easy. He was a good trooper."

"The best friend I ever had."

7839 turns and walks through the camp, stopping beside a dark object on the ground. He kneels beside the poncho pulling back the fastener revealing BL-2673's face. Looking peaceful in death, as if lying in state. 7839 removes something from his pocket, holding it in his hand, studying it.

The small Corellian whiskey flask, the Bespin-orange chrome rubbed away in places revealing the brass beneath and a medallion depicting the 202nd Airborne Division.

MA-7839 takes a sip from the flask. He replaces the cap and lifts the flap of BL-2673's shoulder pouch, placing the flask inside. He lingers on the face and then closes the fastener. Softly, "Good-bye, Bro."

The Twilek is huddled into a foxhole, her hands still bound in front of her. She looks down at her pants leg. The Hunter's bloodstain glows with a faint luminosity. She places her fingers near the stain.

Inside the Hunter's starship, HK-2267's body impacts the floor with a thump.

In the encampment, a momentary hush falls over the symphony of night sounds. The Twilek and BZ-2946 turn towards the trees with a growing look of wariness. The others, setting up the sub-space radio, show no response.

The Hunter's foot steps on the upper plastoid-covered leg of the corpse, the prehensile spur digging deep, pining the body to the ground. The Hunter's hand extends, his fingers puncturing the skin at the base of the spine, gripping the vertebrae. With inhuman strength the arm pulls, the entire spinal column ripping free from the body, a sickly snapping and popping of cartilage separating from bone and tissue.

RZ-0619 is tuning in the compact sub-space field radio, equipped with a crypto-scrambler device. Dante holds the handset. "Blazer One, say again..."

A crackle of static over the commo. "Red Ronto, I say again. Your request for extraction denied. Your area still compromised. Proceed to Sector 3000 for prisoner extraction. Priority Aurek. Next contact at 1030 hours."

"Roger, roger, Blazer one. 1030 hours...damn, Scum." He puts down the commo, turning to the group, huddled together in a tight circle, RZ-0619 and BZ-2946 facing outward in defensive positions, the Twilek, silent, watching. CA-4878 is looking at him.

Dante angrily, "We're still too far in, they won't risk coming in for us."

CA-4878 spoke low. "Expendable assets, Dante. Seems Imperial Center is never around when you need them."

"I can accept that, it comes with the job."

"Poodoo. You're just like the rest of us."

Dante glares back. CA-4878 leaves, lost in thought. RZ-0619 looks up at the impenetrable canopy. "Poodoo load o' good a MAAT/i do us in here anyways."

Dante turns to MA-7839. "MA, who hit us today?"

MA-7839 is still obviously feeling the anger and bitterness of the mystifying event. "Don't know, only saw one of 'em. Camouflaged. He was there..." remembering, "...Those farking eyes..."

"What, Sergeant?" Dante pushes.

"Those eyes...disappeared. But I know one thing, Agent...I drew down and fired right at it. Capped-off two hundred bolts and then the mini-E-Web, the full pack. Nothin'...nothin' in this galaxy could have lived...not at that range."

Dante ponders this for a moment, staring hard at MA-7839. MA-7839 gets up. "I've got the first watch."

7839 departs. Dante watches MA-7839 as he creeps forward to the sentry position. He turns to RZ-0619. "Ask her again. What did she see? What happened to HK-2267?"

RZ-0619 turns to the Twilek. They talk quietly in Ryl, Dante watching, listening carefully. 0619 turns back to Dante. "She says the same thing...It was the forest..."

0619 looks up at BZ-2946 who continues to stare into the forest, aware, nexu-like, reacting to every sound, his nerves on edge, as if ready to snap. RZ-0619 rises, moves alongside his friend, Dante watching closely. 0619 whispers, "You know something BZ, what is it?"

BZ-2946 turns, under his bucket, his face a mask of primal fear. He moves close to 0619. "I'm scared."

RZ-0619 is frightened by this. "Poodoo. You ain't afraid of no man."

BZ-2946 looks deep into his eyes, chilling RZ-0619 to the bone, "There's something out there, waiting for us...it ain't no man."

2946 turns away, moving a short distance away, taking up his position. Dante looks after him and then into the blackness of the forest canopy. Dante speaks to RZ-0619. "He's losing his cool. There's nothing out there but a couple of rebels that we're going to have to take down."

Despite his words, there is an edge of doubt in his voice. CA-4878 returns. He's overheard the exchange. He's holding the group of code cylinders and rank squares from JS-9640's commandos. He holds them up for Dante to see. "You still don't get it, do you Dante? He took JS-9640...and now he wants us."

On board the Hunter's starship. In an oval chamber made of an other-worldly looking metal with a strange copper-like patina, its interior bathed in intense blue light. In the chamber is HK-2267's skull cap and spinal column still attached. The light field suddenly changes as all the connective tissue, flesh and blood are drawn away from the bony structures with an incredible force, disintegrating as they rush toward the sides of the chamber. The light changes in frequency to a dull glow as the Hunter's hands remove the glazed, polished trophy from the chamber. He turns, carefully placing it upon a glowing surface. He touches the trophy gently, feeling its texture, as a man might touch the hide of a big cat. He pulls his hand away and instantly an opaque force field covers the trophies.

MA-7839 hunched down in a foxhole, the mini-E-Web on a tripod before him. It's nearly a full moon, the forest a montage of shadows and reflections. 7839 stares into the the night, his eyes always moving. He whispers to no one. "It's the same kinda forest, Bro, same kinda moon...everything...a real number ten night. Remember Bro? Only you and me, the only one's out of the whole farkin' platoon who made it out."

His eyes probe the darkness as his lenses switch between night-vision and IR mode, remembering. "...we walked out on top of 'em rebels on Yavin. Not a scratch, not a farkin' scratch." Lifts his helmet to spit into the night. "No farkin' blue-milk farmboy got to you, Bro...you were just too good..."

He ponders this a moment. "...I promise you this, Bro...whoever he is, I hope he's plannin' to hit us again..." spits, "...'cause he's got my name on 'em."

At the Hunter's starship, a force field permeates the forest, becoming one with the trees and foliage. The Hunter walks down a corridor of solid light, leading to an opening to the forest. As the Hunter reaches the doorway he changes from visible to invisible, moving on into the night.

At the encampment a searing mist has thickened, the night alive with a million forest sounds. The team members sleep uneasily, if at all. MA-7839, although weary, stares hard into the night, waiting, each small sound a potential enemy. A lull spreads over the jungle. Animals and insects quieting. 7839 tightens his grip in the mini-E-Web.

BZ-2946 awakens, peering into the night. Nothing.

Suddenly a metallic click, a pop, the sound of a warning flare rocketing into the canopy. A moment later a brilliant flash as the flare burns, illuminating the camp. An echoing eerie scream fills the night as a dark shape in the mist rockets through the undergrowth towards MA-7839.

7839 spins, hauling the heavy blaster around, just as something crashes into his upper body armor, driving the huge stormtrooper into the foxhole. A desperate battle for life ensues, illuminated with the strobing light of the descending flare. 7839's enraged shouts and roars mingled with horrific screams fill the night. MA-7839's razor-edged vibro-blade slashes in the light; blood splatters his bucket's faceplate as he attacks fiercely.

CA-4878 and RZ-0619 rush at a crouching run towards the foxhole, their blasters ready. A tremendous climatic scream from the foxhole and then silence. 4878 and 0619 approach, cautiously. MA-7839 stands, his face plate and armor drenched in blood, some of it his, his breath coming in rapid gasps. He looks at CA-4878, whispering hoarsely. "Got the wookiefarker..."

As the flare breaks through the canopy, dying out in great flickering bursts, the stormtroopers stare down into the foxhole. A huge, forest Tulrus lies mutilated in a pool of blood, still quivering in the final throes of death. The flare dies out. 7839 stares, incredulous, "A pig...just a farking pig..."

CA-4878 shines his glowlamp onto the Tulrus, playing the light along its massive hulk, its razor edged ivory tusks gleaming in the light. 0619 appears by his side, looking down at the carcass. "By the Emperor, MA."

Nearby, unnoticed by the stormtroopers, the Twilek stoops, her hands still bound, picking up an E-11 blaster from the ground. She turns, looking for an avenue of escape, running for the forest. Bit the forest looks foreboding and sinister. She stops, looking at the forest, the moonlight reflected off leaves like a thousand eyes. For a brief second she imagines she can see the Hunter's eyes, crashing towards her, the shifting patterns of light and dark making the forest seem to strobe, like it is about to rush in at her. She freezes, paralyzed by fear, by her memories of the attack.

She drops the E-11 to the ground.

Back at the foxhole, CA-4878 and RZ-0619 help the shaken MA-7839 from the hole. 4878 looks at 7839, a huge gash across his armor's chest plate, blood seeping through. "Get a bacta dressing on that right away." Suddenly he remembers, the Twilek. "Where's the girl?"

They all turn, ready to move and then stop. Coming forth from the shadows the blue Twilek appears, still frightened, seeking the security of the stormtroopers.

From the darkness nearby, BZ-2946's voice in a hoarse whisper, "Major, over here."

CA-4878 turns, apprehensively, something in BZ-2946's voice...He walks over to 2946, standing with a glowrod pointing to the ground. They see BL-2673's body bag slashed open, covered in blood. "The body...it's gone."

RZ-0619 appears, "Came in through the trip wires, took it right out from under our noses..."

The Twilek appears, between CA-4878 and RZ-0619, staring down at the empty, blood soaked body bag. She looks up, into CA-4878's eyes.

**0600, Encampment, Smoking Forest**

A patchy, steamy ground fog covers the area. The Twilek, in her foxhole, awakens, listening to the rising sounds of the forest. Wild Kowakian monkey-lizards begin to forage, their noisy chattering and screeching filling the air. A bird flutters back to its nest; a lizard emerges on a leaf, directly above the Twilek's head.

She extends her arm, allowing the lizard to crawl onto her, watching, fascinated as it changes colors. She carefully places the chameleon back on the leaf, which changes color again, becoming nearly invisible.

Near the empty poncho, CA-4878, BZ-2946, and RZ-0619 are examining the ground and the trip wire to the flare. 2946 stands, turns to 4878. "Tulsur set off the trip flare, Major. No other tracks."

4878 kneels and examines the thin, well-hidden wire. He stands, looking at the camp. RZ-0619 ponders, "How could anyone get through this, carry BL-2673 out, right under our noses without leavin' a trace?"

"He knows our defenses." 4878 answers.

"Why didn't he try to kill one of us last night?"

4878 looks at him. " He came back for the body." pauses, "He's killing us, one at a time..."

CA-4878 turns and looks at BZ-2946, asking with his look for a viable explanation. 2946 provides it, "Like a hunter."

4878 stares at him, the words sinking in. He looks up, reconstructing in his mind the possible events of last night, his eyes following the tree line, tracing the path of the intruder as he might have traveled through the trees and down to the ground. He looks up at BZ-2946. "He uses the trees."

2946 and 0619 stare up at the trees, a wave of fear passing through them...from the trees. 4878 turns, moving to where Dante is guarding the Twilek, sitting on the ground. Reaching down, 4878 pulls her firmly to her feet, looking at her intensely. "Yesterday. What did you see?"

She stares back at him. Dante answers for her, "You're wastin' your time."

She looks at him a long moment, and then answers in basic. "I don't know what it was. It..."

Dante does a double take. 4878 continues to look at the Twilek. He wasn't surprised: he knew it yesterday. "Go on."

"It changes color, like the chameleon. It uses the forest..."

Dante is derisive about the matter. "Poodoo, you're trying to tell me BL-2673 and HK-2267 were killed by a farking color-changing Trandoshan? Don't listen to her. It's a psych-job. Two, maybe three of them, that's all. We keep our cool, out think them 'til we're across the border..."

Ignoring him. CA-4878 takes her hands, drawing his vibro-blade, looking squarely into her eyes. "What's your name?"

She looks back through his polarized lenses, into his eyes. "Ayya."

"Ayya, He's hunting us. You know that?"

She nods. With a sudden movement he slices through her shock-binders. Dante is surprised. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"We're going to need everyone."

"What are you talking about? We'll be out of here in ten minutes."

"We're not going."

"The rendezvous is ten maybe twelve miles, at most! We're almost home. But the MAAT/i won't wait."

CA-4878 turns to face him. "Dante...this thing doesn't care who we are, who she is. We make a stand or there won't be anyone left to make that MAAT/i"

Dante stares back, not wanting to hear what he already knows to be the truth. Ayya touches CA-4878's arm. "There is something else. When the big stormtrooper was killed, you must have wounded it," hesitates, "It's blood was on the leaves."

She touches her pant leg, the stain is faded but still there. CA-4878 turns to Dante. "If it bleeds, we can kill it."

**0900 Encampment, Smoking Forest**

Ayya at the base of the rocks scans the forest with macrobinoculars watching the tree line. MA-7839 moves past her uncoiling a trip wire linking up four laser-flachette mines hidden at various points with the leaves and foliage. In a tree at the edge of the clearing BZ-2946 tosses an uncoiling roll of wire to RZ-0619 who attaches it to a thermal detonator, wedged into the crouch of a tree. Wires attached to grenades and laser-flachette mines lead through the underbrush and trees leaving a long, unmined corridor leading from the camp and into the forest.

At the corridor's end, where the rocks merge with the forest, CA-4878 hauls down on a heavy vine, straining with every once of strength, his muscles bulging, while Dante takes up the slack of the vine around the base of a tree. The vine is attached to a fifteen meter sapling, arcing closer to the ground in a gigantic bow with every pull, creaking and groaning with tension. With a last mighty heave, CA-4878 draws the tree almost within reach, gesturing to Dante to tie it off, who does.

Dante straining, "I'm tellin' you, this little 'Empire Youth' stunt is a Sith-damned waste of time." stands, "We've got to get the hell out of here, now, while we've still got the chance."

Ignoring him, CA-4878 rapidly drags into position a net crudely woven of differing sizes of vines, their leaves still attached. He carefully begins to cover the net with leaves and debris. Dante watches him in growing frustration as 4878 moves quickly, picking up a framework of sticks he has tied together, a endor-spring trigger. He holds up the framework, hurriedly examining his work before placing it on the ground. "He'll be looking for trip wires. If we're lucky, he won't see this."

"Now what, CA. You going to send your mystery guest an invitation?"

CA-4878 turns, there is a touch of fear in Dante's eyes. "You're catching on, Dante." 4878 returns to his work on the net and trigger.

**1300 Encampment, Smoking Forest**

Morning passes. Steam fog lifts as the sun, Priate, creeps into the forest. Insects swarm and are fed upon by birds and other predators.

At the entrance way to the rock outcropping, the net and trigger are hidden beneath the leaves, the framework of the trigger bulging with tension from the straining vine attached to the bent tree. At the other end of the corridor, several meters above the forest floor, CA-4878 and his team, heavily camouflaged, nearly invisible, lie hidden, waiting. The team members, as if hypnotized by the buzzing din, stare into the forest, fixated, alert.

Ayya while waiting at the net, hushed, "When I was little, on Ryloth, we find a man..." She struggles for the words, "like a butcher. The old ones in the village anti-hexed themselves and whisper crazy things. 'Demonio cazador de trofoes...Only the hottest times of the hottest years...' Crazy things...This year it grows hot. And we begin finding our men. We find them sometimes without their shin. Sometimes...much, much worse. Cazador de trofoes...means the demon who takes trophies."

Suddenly an eerie silence moves over the forest. CA-4878 whips his face forward. The silence is shattered by a bird flapping from the brush. 4878 sits back and scratches his neck, frustrated and a little chagrined.

Dante whispers, "What'll you try next..cheese?"

CA-4878 glares at him. Turns to go....He stands and begins to move low to the ground toward the waiting snare.

Behind him, sighting down their well hidden blaster barrels, the others scan the forest, alert for the slightest sound or movement, covering him. 4878 reaches the trap, carefully skirting the trigger hidden beneath the leaves. He reaches the end of the corridor, moving out into the forest. He moves further away from the others, the silence crushing down on him. He stops and waits, sweat pouring down his face, his finger tightening on the firing stub of his modified E-11, eyes scanning the forest.

He turns his back on the forest, waiting. Nothing. He moves back towards the corridor, reaching the net, again waiting, listening, sensing. Nothing. He turns around, looking at the forest one last time, his face measuring defeat and then, with carefully, measured strides, he walks back to the camp. CA-4878 looks at BZ-2946 who shakes his head in puzzlement.

Nearby, Dante starts to rise, "Satisfied? Now let's get the hell out..."

Suddenly, behind CA-4878 at the end of the corridor, with a resounding swish and snap, the net explodes of the floor of the forest in a hail of leaves and sticks, rocketing upward into the treetops. CA-4878 spins, the others leaping to their feet as they see the net as it tears into the treetops, a large struggling bulge trapped within as a long, trilling scream echoes through the forest.

CA-4878 and the other stormtroopers charge from the rocks towards the forest and the bobbing net, their blasters ready. Ayya remains behind, watching terrified from the rocks. They arrive under the net, raising their blasters to fire...but before they can fire the entire net explodes into a flurry of leaves, twigs, vines, dirt and a flash of pulsating crimson.

As the Hunter leaps from the net his weapon activates, his arm slashes out, severing a thick limb of the spreading tree canopy, entangled in vines.

The limb crashes down from the trees, CA-4878, Dante, BZ-2946, and MA-7839 dive for safety. But RZ-0619, following the Hunter's leap, sees too late the pendular movement of the severed limb and is struck a thudding blow in the ribs, which lifts him off his feet, hurling him backwards like a rag doll, his chest armor torn open, exposing a bloody wound.

As Ayya runs to RZ-0619's side, the others, still stunned, look upward, frozen in shock, seeing the Hunter, clinging to a side of a tree, flushed bright crimson.

Dante is dumbfounded, like the others, rooted to the ground staring upwards. "What in the Emperor's name...?"

The Hunter utters an unworldly snarl and hiss from his open mouth as an instant later his camouflage resumes and he vanishes from sight...a rapid, furtive movement through the trees.

MA-7839 opens fire with the DLT-20A, the others joining in, shredding the foliage, but they know the creature is gone. With a shout, MA-7839 races into the forest, in pursuit of the Hunter.

CA-4878 yells at his back, "MA!"

CA-4878 hurriedly ejects the spent tibanna clip from the E-11, slamming in a new one. He shouts an order to BZ-2946. "Get RZ on his feet. Take the girl and get the hell out of here!" He turns to run after 7839.

Dante steps in front of him, pushing his hand on 4878's chest armor. "No way, CA. I'm going. You get these beings and get the hell out of here."

"This ain't your style, Dante."

"Guess I've picked up some bad habits from you, CA. Now don't argue with me, you know I'm right. Get to that MAAT/i and hold it for us. We'll be along."

"You know you can't win this one."

Dante stares at him. "You know me, CA. I never did know when to quit." Dante turns and begins to move out.

"Dante!" Dante turns. Picking up the spare WESTAR M5, CA-4878 tosses the blaster to Dante, who grabs it with one hand. They share a look, knowing this is farewell. "I'll see you there."

"Right behind you." Hefting both blasters at the hip as he runs into the forest after MA-7839.

CA-4878 watches him leave. He breaks and goes to RZ-0619, attended by Ayya and BZ-2946, who is now sitting up, holding his ribs and gasping for breath. "He's busted up, bad, Major." 2946 informs him.

0619 gasps, "I can make it, Major."

4878 lifts him to his feet, supporting him. "Come on, RZ, we're getting out of here." To 2946, "BZ, take the commo, leave the rest. Come on!"

MA-7839 is creeping low to the ground, his eyes searching through the trees, whispering. "Come on, you wookiefarker!"

Dante, moving through the underbrush hears a slight rustling in the foliage. MA-7839? He strains to locate the source of the movement. He hears a sound, too faint at first to identify. He listens. Silence. He hears it again, the sound of a voice, barely audible. A very quiet whisper. "Dante, over here."

Dante locates the direction of the voice and moves towards it. "Dante, over here."

Dante moves a meter into the undergrowth. He carefully parts the thick leaves and vines and enters a tiny opening. He looks around, seeing nothing. "MA?" Suddenly a hand appears and covers Dante's mouth. Dante gasps as MA-7839 pulls him down to where he is hiding.

"Out there. Past the rocks...can you see it?"

Something seems to move in the direction 7839 is pointing. "I see it!" pauses, "We're gonna take this thing." Dante points to an outcropping of rocks, covered with vines. "Take a position over there. I'll work around towards you. When I flush him, you nail him..."

"...Right, I got a score to settle for the Bro..."

"We both got scores to settle." Dante silently disappears into the forest. MA-7839 watching him go. 7839 makes his way towards the rock outcropping, working his way between the rocks and the vines. He takes up a position and scans the forest before him.

Dante moving quietly, his face intense, determined. He stops and listens.

MA-7839 straining to hear vague sounds coming from the forest. He reaches out and grabs a vine and carefully pulls himself forward into a better position.

Dante is moving, searching. He goes into a crouch.

7839 senses movement in the undergrowth. He begins to sweat. He moves the safety to fire; reaches out and grabs another vine to pull himself forward. MA-7839 reacts in shock. The vine is alive.

Before he can move, the Hunter's hand appears from the vines, grabbing MA-7839 by the wrist. In the moment before he is killed, MA-7839 turns and sees the Hunter's glowing eyes. A flash as the Hunter's other hand, moves in blinding speed, 7839's face contorting in pain as the Hunter's razor-sharp spur rips deep into his throat. He falls forward into the leaves.

Dante hears the faint disturbance in the leaves. He pauses, turning in 7839's direction, listening. Hearing no further sound he relaxes, moving on.

In a narrow magma-river gorge, Ayya is in the lead, followed by CA-4878 carrying RZ-0619 on his back. BZ-2946, carrying the commo is covering them from above, as they skitter and slide down the loose gravel of a rocky slope, leading to the magma-floe's crossing.

Dante stalks through the narrow corridor of tangled vines and moss, leading to the rock outcropping on the other side, his face alert, showing no signs of fear, his blaster ready.

Through the thick tangle of undergrowth, there is movement, a slight, undulating distortion, drifting through the hanging vegetation, as if cast by a passing shadow. Dante stops and crouches slightly, listening behind him. Did he hear something? He moves on.

Behind Dante and to the side of the corridor. The Hunter syncopates his movements precisely with those of Dante. Dante stops. The Hunter freezes in position. Dante senses something behind him. He crouches and spins, leveling the blaster. The corridor behind him is empty, quiet and undisturbed. He studies the trail intently.

The Hunter peers out through the vines. Dante is looking directly at him. Dante turns, moves on, as the Hunter resumes his stalk, timing his movements perfectly with those of Dante.

Dante approaches the rock outcropping. He signals. Receiving no response he moves closer, turning cautiously to his right and left. "MA...MA." He moves closer to the rocks, eyes probing. Through a gap in the rocks he sees 7839's faceplate, staring up at him, lenses smashed, eyes frozen wide in death.

Dante spins hard. He stares at the solid wall of undergrowth. He looks from one side of the corridor to the other. Something is out there. Where? Something in the vines has caught his attention. He stares hard at a section of moss.

Suddenly the right combination of light and shadow prevail and Dante sees in an instant, the Hunter's eyes materialize and then disappear.

With a growl and exhalation of breath, Dante charges, bringing the blaster to bear. A short burst of plasma-fire erupts from the barrel. In an indiscernible blur of camouflage the Hunter releases his weapon.

Dante screams, his arm instantly severed halfway between his shoulder and elbow. The blaster drops to the ground, the forearm still attached, still firing. With his left hand he fires the second blaster, shouting insanely as he swings it towards the blurred image of his unseen attacker, hitting nothing.

The Hunter reloads his weapon which turns invisible again. Dante continues to fire. The Hunter's weapon appears from below, cutting into Dante's unprotected abdomen, which, as if hit by a Jedi's light saber, bursts open. Dante cries out as the ISB agent hits the ground.

A huge log spans the magma-floe in the narrow gorge, CA-4878 and Ayya with RZ-0619 between them, move onto the log, preparing to cross. They stop, hearing Dante's distant blaster-fire.

The Hunter is moving through the forest with incredible speed, leaping, tearing form tree to tree, the forest a rush of heat trails as he charges on.

At the log crossing, the forest is deathly silent. CA-4878, Ayya, and RZ-0619 cross the log, moving onto the other side. BZ-2946, still at the foot of the log, providing cover, turns to face the forest. He lifts his helmet towards the trees, feeling the onrushing presence of the Hunter. He shrugs off the commo letting it fall, smashing into the magma below, melting.

He casts away his blaster. Staring forward he reaches into his shoulder cargo pouch, withdrawing a small grease-paint tin. He removes his bucket, and covers his finger in black paint he applies dark slashes under his eyes and again, vertically down his cheeks. Taking another dap of paint he makes a symbol on his chest plate, over his heart.

He drops the tin, withdrawing his long combat vibro-blade, holding the vibro-blade he grasps the medicine bag around his neck, yanking it free with a quick snap. He wraps the leather thong around his power-glove and vibro-blade, binding the weapon and bag together. Staring outward, as if in a trance, he begins a low Tusken Raider chant.

On the other side, CA-4878 carrying RZ-0619 on his back, laboring up the steep slope, nearing the top, turns and sees BZ-2946 standing, waiting at the foot of the bridge. "BZ!" he screams.

But BZ-2946 stands at the foot of the bridge, vibro-blade raised, waiting, accepting his oncoming destiny. "BZ!"

In frustration, CA-4878 hikes 0619 higher onto his back, digs in and sprints to the top of the hill, Ayya waiting at the top.

BZ-2946 crouches low, vibro-blade extended in a fighting position.

Over the top, in a low depression, CA-4878 props 0619 against some rocks, reaching for his blaster. They hear BZ-2946's echoing scream. Instantly their blasters are raised, cocked and ready. "Get back into the rocks."

CA-4878 sweeps Ayya behind him as RZ-0619 struggles to his feet. Together they back up, covering the ridge line over which they've just come.

Suddenly, from one side, near RZ-0619, the Hunter bursts from the forest, 0619, seeing the Hunter, spins raising his blaster to fire...RZ-0619 sees the Hunter's onrushing face, still in camouflage, a montage of organic textures and colors, his yellow eyes burning. Whipping the WESTAR M5 in the direction of the Hunter he is hurled backwards from the impact of the Hunter's weapon, his neck gushing blood, the WESTAR M5 flying through the air, landing in front of Ayya. She moves for the blaster...

The Hunter with unworldly speed, turns towards Ayya, as CA-4878 starts to spin, seeing the Hunter about to strike as Ayya dives for the blaster. CA-4878 lunges licking the WESTAR M5 out of Ayya's reach. "Run! Get to the MAAT/i"

CA-4878 spins and fires, bolts slapping into the ground, the barrel arcing towards the Hunter as Ayya stumbles to her feet running into the forest. In a blur the Hunter spins back, hurling his weapon at CA-4878 which slices the plastoid stock off the blaster rifle, sparks flying as it severs the trigger guard and durasteel breach. The E-11 flies out of 4878's hands as the Hunter's weapon cuts deeply into his left shoulder, laying open the flesh.

The E-11 hits the ground, where it lies broken in half, useless. CA-4878 hits the ground and is rolling, up and running for his life, the Hunter charging after him.

CA-4878 crashes headlong through the jungle. He leaps a fallen log, stumbles, struggles to his feet, running on pure adrenalin, his shoulder pulsing blood, his eyes filled with terror. Behind him he can hear the Hunter in pursuit, closing. CA-4878 spins to look behind him, a wild desperate look on his face, he turns back, ducks an overhanging limb and lunges on.

The Hunter is closing rapidly...another few meters.

CA-4878 runs like a madman, the sound of the Hunter's footsteps close behind. He's losing ground. He knows he's going to die. CA-4878 shouts. Suddenly the ground before him collapses and he disappears from sight.

In a shower of leaves, flailing arms and legs, CA-4878 crashes through the trees at a canyon's edge, free falling into space.

With a sickening impact, he hits the branches of the first trees lining the canyon and falls, over thirty meters, through one canopy after another, desperately grabbing for limbs and branches to break his fall. He hits the bottom branches of the last line of trees, impacting cross chest on a large branch, knocking his wind out. Semi-conscious, he hangs momentarily before he slides off, fingers digging into the black bark, falling another few meters into a swiftly moving, steamingly hot, river of water.

Weighted down by his boots and armor, CA-4878 struggles to stay afloat. Gasping for air he ducks underwater, unbuckling one of his boots. He surfaces, fills his lungs and dives again, releasing the other boot. He surfaces, strips off his torso and leg armor and begins to swim towards the shore, stroking with one arm.

The Hunter nears the edge of the precipice from which CA-4878 has fallen. The Hunter in close pursuit does not hesitate but launches himself off the cliff in a spectacular leap, streaking downward towards the top of the trees that grow out of the canyon wall.

The Hunter tears through the canopy of the first tree, the branches and leaves rushing past in a kaleidoscopic blur. The Hunter bounds off of one branch after another, moving through the trees as an expert scout-trooper might negotiate on a speederbike. The Hunter leaps free of one tree, bounds across six meters of open space to a large branch of a huge tree, affording a good view of the river below. From his vantage point, looking down at the winding, steamy expanse of river, CA-4878 is nowhere to be seen.

CA-4878 is swept into a still faster current and is carried helplessly downstream. Boiling whitewater appears. Out of control he is swept through a series of rapids, smashing out his polarized lenses, pulling him further and further downstream until he is finally sucked into the undertow and hurled over the top of a two meter falls, driven deep underwater by the pounding force of the water.

The Hunter still has no sign of CA-4878. Precious seconds pass. Slowly, looking like a drowned womp-rat, he surfaces, taking a feeble breath. He is nearly finished, his energy sapped. But the water is calm and a few strokes are enough to carry him near the shore. His feet hit bottom.

He tries to stand but pitches headfirst into the thick boiling mud slurry at the river bank. With his last ounce of strength, he crawls, panting and gasping into a sheltered mud overhang, collapsing beside the exposed root-system of a dead tree, his body completely covered in thick, hot mud.

Nearly unconscious, he raises his helmeted head and looks to the opposite side of the river, scanning the bank. There is no sign of the Hunter. He collapses in relief. He's escaped.

Suddenly, the Hunter impacts the water, throwing up a huge splash. He stands up in the waist deep water. As the water streams off his body, the chameleon effect rapidly changes, struggling to match the shifting color patterns of the shimmering water.

His glaring yellow orbs stare directly at the spot where CA-4878 lies helplessly trapped. The Hunter surges forward, relentlessly closing in on his prey.

CA-4878 is frozen in terror, paralyzed with fear, his eyes locked on to the incredible creature that is about to kill him.

The Hunter is closing rapidly, another three meters. He leaves the water and walks through the mud, stopping, towering over CA-4878. As the Hunter's feet surge through the simmering mud and stop a meter away. Realizing his life is about to end, 4878 closes his eyes, awaiting the Hunter's killing blow.

The fierce yellow orbs look downward.

He's looking directly down at CA-4878, except he can't see him. He can clearly see the exposed root-system, but because of the heavy mud blocking CA-4878's body heat, 4878 registers in the Hunter's vision as merely an indistinct lump of hot clay, unrecognizable to the Hunter as a human being.

He scans the bank, searching, looking for heat sources. Detecting none he moves on sounding a questioning trill several times.

CA-4878 is disbelieving that he's still alive, opens one eye, seeing the Hunter's feet move away, his prehensile spurs dragging in the mud. He rounds a bend and disappears, heading for the undergrowth. Astonished, he tries to raise up on his hands but a sudden jabbing pain in his shoulder causes him to collapse, falling onto his side, unconscious in the mud.


	5. Chapter 5

**1800 Magma-Floe, Northern side of Border**

As a MAAT/i attack transport breaks over the top of the ridge, diving forward, moving down the canyon, its partner flares up into a holding pattern.

In an open doorway, a stormtrooper searches the top of the canyon with macrobinoculars. Seeing no sign of life, the MAAT/i flies on, disappearing down the canyon rim.

CA-4878 lies unconscious in the mud, the distant sound of the MAAT/i whining into the distance.

Ayya runs into a clearing, stopping momentarily, gasping for breath. She is startled by a sudden movement behind her. She spins, looking. There is nothing there. She runs on.

CA-4878 gasps as his eyes bolt open in fear. As if the Hunter was still attacking, 4878 rolls to his feet and runs, slogging through the thick mud, stumbling, lunging forward, gasping for breath. CA-4878 spins and staggers backwards into a shallow pool, scuttling, acklay-like into the chest deep water. 4878 backs into a moss-covered wall by the waterfall, looking for movement, regaining his senses. As the water settles, he looks down, seeing the image of himself, reflected in the pool; his helmet and neck covered in thick clay. He stares, mesmerized at the image.

He lifts his arm from the water, his fingers wiping the mud from his faceplate, exposing a patch of white plastoid. He studies the mud on his glove and then looks at the image of himself in the water, seeing the exposed surface. He stares at it, a wave of realization rushing through his mind. He places the mud back on his faceplate, again looking at his image.

"You couldn't see me." He looks up, out into the failing light, at the treeline of the deepening forest, realizing that fate has given him a fighting chance. Slowly a look of vengeance and hatred crosses over his face.

**0000 Riverbank, Smoking Forest**

Using his Vibro-machete he carves magnesium shavings from a fire block into a pile of kindling. He removes a sparkstick from the hollow handle of the vibro-machete, also containing a coil of trip wire, green tape, and medical supplies. He lights the shavings which burn with a brilliant white light. CA-4878 shelters the fire with a large leaf until the flame dies down. He feeds the fire with more kindling, fanning it with a leaf.

Holding a meter section of fire-hardened sapling between his feet and shoulder, he scrapes the char from the seasoned wood with his vibro-machete. He bends the bow and attaches a long piece of trip wire to one end, carefully wrapping it for strength, using strips of green tape to cover the sides of the wire where the nock of the arrow will fit. He attaches split quilled feathers with fishing line to an arrow, its tip fashioned into a series of barbs, rubbing them to a polished hardness against a smooth stone. When finished he places the arrow on the ground next to three other identical arrows.

"One chance, that's all."

CA-4878 is pounding a peeled root between two stones. He pauses to drool saliva into the pulpy mass. He scrapes the milky substance onto a leaf, mixing it with a sticky sap, holding it over the coals until the mixture steams. 4878 coats the arrow tips with the sticky poison, holding them over the coals until the sap bubbles and smokes. He spins the arrows in his hands, blowing on the tips to cool and harden the mixture.

Using the tip of his vibro-machete, he pries open the casing on one of the thermal detonators, discarding the warhead. He dumps the explosive charge from the casing onto a leaf, mixing that with a mound of magnesium shavings. He opens the narrow, tight roll of bacta-gauze taken from the first-aid of the handle, fluffing it into a large, loose bundle, the size of a power pack. He pours the explosive mixture into the bacta-gauze, mixing it into the fabric. He transfers the ball of explosive laden gauze to a pliable dry leaf, closing it into a bundle, binding it at the top with a long strand of lava-grass. He twists the remaining bacta-gauze around a sparkstick, leaving the head exposed, forming a self-striking fuse.

CA-4878 coats the fuse with the sap and then quickly covers it with more explosives from the thermal detonator. He pokes the fuse down into the leaf. Taking a long strand of lava-grass he makes a large loop, tying it into the thermal detonator, slipping the loop and thermal detonator over his head. Finally, using several sections of bamboo of differing diameters, he fashions a crude, anti-personnel spear-bomb, a bang-stick like weapon, using the sharpened tongue from his belt clasp for a firing pin and a thermal detonator from his belt pouch as an explosive charge.

**0400 Riverbank, Smoking Forest**

CA-4878 appears, he has covered his entire body with a variety of lava-clay and mud, creating a mottled camouflaged pattern. Holding his weapons in one hand, he moves up the canyon, ascending into a rising boulder field.

On a flattened section of rock, CA-4878 drags a large section of branches into view, adding it to a growing mound of firewood. He kneels, tending to a pile of dried grass, leaves, and other tinder. Using the last of his precious sparksticks, he sets fire to the tinder, gently coaxing the tiny blaze into a slowly consuming fire, flames starting to lick upward through the dry wood.

He stands, staring into the rapidly growing blaze. He turns, facing the canyon rim, raising his weapons in one hand. From the depths of his soul, a sound emerges; primitive and visceral, as if from an animal in pain. He throws back his head and shouts. His mud-coated body bathed in red firelight, looking like a fierce, primitive warrior, a timeless prehistoric sight, his long and wailing cry, echoing endlessly through the canyon.

Back lit by the light of the open door of his starship, the Hunter's head, his eyes gleaming, rears into view, looking up at the sky, hearing CA-4878's cry. Responding with a low hiss, he turns back, raising in one hand his weapon, in the other a U-shaped sharpening device. As he passes the weapon through the device, it flashes into life, a deep, harmonic hum emitted as the blade grows with energy, growing hotter, and hotter with each stroke. He draws the blade now white-hot through the device for the last stroke. He lifts it, testing its balance, the white-hot blade illuminating his alien face.

Emerging from his camp, the Hunter swings into the nearby tree line, moving to the uppermost branches. The Hunter travels silently from tree to tree, arriving at the canyon rim where far below he sees in the canyon, the bonfire, a leaping, shifting, multicolored collage of heat waves and flares, luring him onward.

CA-4878 is hidden back within the deep notch of several large logs and broken trees, in the river canyon. Below him, on the rock plateau, is the bonfire, the awaiting arena of destiny. His eyes shift, trance-like, moving from side to side, watching the approaches to the fire below. His senses are alert; his nerves on a wire edge.

The Hunter's shadow-form descends through the canyon, a rippling movement of grays and blacks, passing through the shifting light patterns on the rocks, cast by the growing bonfire below. His eyes probe the canyon, drawn to the swirling patterns of heat given off by the gaseous combustion of the bonfire. He continues on, moving silently down the canyon.

CA-4878 sits motionless, nearly invisible in his mud camouflage amid the darkness of the logs. Suddenly, over the crackling of the fire, the buzzing, clicking of insects, and the croaking of amphibians, suddenly ceases.

Slowly, painfully he draws the bow to full arch, his wounded shoulder trembling, the blood beginning to seep through the bandage: The bow straining at full draw, 4878 stares intently, concentrating, searching for the Hunter's form in the dancing light below.

Like a giant insect, the Hunter drops from above, five meters above CA-4878, his durasteel-like spurs digging deep into the log.

CA-4878 freezes at the sound of the Hunter dropping, his eyes wide with fear. The slightest movement will bring an instant attack from the Hunter behind him. He waits, his back exposed.

The Hunter jumps from the log above and to 4878's left, onto a boulder, gaining a better vantage point of the arena and fire below. He raises his weapon, his eyes glistening in the dim light, searching. A quiet hiss emerges from his mouth.

CA-4878 spins and fires at the movement of the Hunter. The arrow flies into the night, lodging into a branch of an exposed tree, just missing the Hunter's head.

In a blur, the Hunter's arm streaks downward, a dull flash of light leaving his fingers as he fires the weapon, the projectile streaking downward, exploding into the log, centimeters from CA-4878, sending a shower of wood chips and bark, flying in every direction.

In a flash, CA-4878 is up and running, clutching his weapons, leaping from boulder to boulder. He jumps down to the lighted area below, landing hard, rolling into the protective shadows of the rocks, putting the loping fire between himself and the Hunter's position on the rocks above.

4878 moves forward, daring to look backwards before leaping off the lip of the table rock into the boulder field below, a flat plane littered by weirdly shaped, water eroded rocks, forming a giant stone amphitheater. Shadows leap and dance across the boulders, cast by the bonfire from the plateau above. CA-4878 crouches between two large boulders, quietly breathing through clenched teeth, feeling the pain of his now freely bleeding shoulder wound.

The Hunter is a nightmarish silhouette appearing for an instant on the rim of the plateau above.

CA-4878 distinguishes a new sound, over the sounds of the fire and the softly flowing river, one that brings fear and a savage determination to his heart: the rhythmical click-scrape, click-scrape of the Hunter's feet, moving over the rocks, somewhere above him. Drawing back on the bow, CA-4878 moves around the boulder to his left, heading towards the sound of the Hunter.

The Hunter, revealed in flashes of strobing light, pauses at the juncture of several towering rocks. He stands erect, tilting his head slowly, turning it from side to side, his ears trying to orientate to the diversity of sounds reflecting off the circular walls, enclosing the boulder field.

His vision, accustomed to another spectrum, has little available heat to register vivid images of the inert, lifeless forms of the stones. He sees instead, a world of soft, ill-defined shapes in a pale magenta field of flickering heat.

CA-4878 creeps forward, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, suddenly stops, hearing the click-scrape, click-scrape, now on his right. Starting to move in this new direction, he stops again, hearing the sound now directly across from him. Listening, he hears the sound again from yet another direction, the sounds echoing in the natural amphitheater of rock.

CA-4878, uncertain of where to turn, waits. Suddenly he crouches and freezes, hearing the unbelievable sound of a human voice, softly echoing through the amphitheater. It's Ayya's voice, speaking in Twileki, "Look out, behind you!"

4878 spins, his breath catching at the sound of Ayya's voice. Wide-eyed, straining, he waits, hearing only the muted flowing of water, the hissing and popping of the dying fire above, the shadows growing longer, darker with each minute. And then again, Ayya's voice, "...Look out, behind you!"

To himself, "Ayya...?" Trance like he moves towards the sound.

The Hunter slants his head, throat distended, utters another mimicry.

CA-4878 moves towards the space between two boulders from which the voice seems to emanate. "Ayya...?"

The Hunter, his ears now directed toward the sound of CA-4878's voice, his slowly approaching footsteps, raises his weapon.

4878 pauses before the opening of the passageway. All is silent. He hesitates to enter. Listening. He starts to move and then hears a new voice: MA-7839's, "Dante, over here..." CA-4878, horrified at the sound of the dead stormtrooper's voice, backs quickly into the space between a boulder and the high rock wall of the amphitheater.

The Hunter moves his feet quietly over the rock, the shadow-light deepening with the dying fire below, closing in.

CA-4878 draws his bow, trapped against the rock, hearing the sound of the Hunter approaching from the left, now the right, is helpless, not knowing where to fire, the Hunter's deadly strike only an instant away.

Still holding the bang-stick in his bow hand, he carefully releases the draw on the string, reaching to his neck for the flash-detonator. With painstaking care he removes the grenade from his neck. Focusing on the rocks before him and the still approaching sound, he reaches down with the thermal detonator, gripping with his fingertips the sparkstick fuse, placing it against the rocks at his side. With a sudden jerk of his hand he strikes and throws the thermal detonator, snatching up the bang-stick with his good hand. The sparkstick sputters as the thermal detonator flies through the air, an instant later a blinding, white flash of light illuminates the amphitheater. In that instant CA-4878 sees above him and to his left, the Hunter, poised on top of a rock, his weapon raised, about to strike! Momentarily blinded by the flash of light, the Hunter's head recoils to the side.

Darkness swallows the image of the Hunter, but in that second, CA-4878 seizes his advantage, hurling the bang-stick spear. It smashes into the boulder at the Hunter's feet. The Hunter leaps as the thermal detonator explodes, shrapnel tearing into his body. With a terrifying scream of pain and anger, the Hunter clutches frantically at the wounds in his neck and chest. Another blood-curdling scream of rage and the Hunter is gone.

CA-4878 appears, holding the bow and arrow, following the luminous blood trail of the Hunter over the rock. Moving behind the falls, 4878's body is briefly soaked by the water, the hardened mud and camouflage beginning to dissolve, running off his body. He continues on, slowly, cautiously following the blood trail. He climbs up a log onto a boulder. Oblivious to the searing pain in his shoulder, he breathes in hot, powerful exchanges, his eyes wide and glowing with vengeance.

"Bleed, you scum."

His bow down, CA-4878 follows the blood trail across the rock, edging alongside a huge vertical boulder. The blood trail stops. He takes another step forward, past a darkened alcove...

CA-4878 spins, seeing in the alcove the surprised Hunter whirl and spring towards him...4878 in a bound closes the distance, savagely kicking the Hunter's arm. The weapon flies from the Hunter's hand clattering to the rock. Before he can recover, CA-4878 follows with a Teras kasi kick to the chest, hurling the Hunter to the ground, his back exposed.

In a flash, 4878 is standing over the Hunter, the bow drawn, poised, the blood from his open wound dripping onto the Hunter's back. The Hunter slowly rolls onto his back, its hair tied back in Nautolan fashion, revealing his face, his eyes bleached white in shock from the loss of blood, four dagger-sharp mandibles cover its mouth. The Hunter's body, rippled out of control, trying desperately to orientate itself to the environment.

"Who the hell are you...?" 4878 asks incredulously.

CA-4878 looms over him, mottled and streaked from his exposed skin, blood oozing from the shoulder wound, his eyes like black sockets in his almost skull-like face. The Hunter shudders, gasping hungrily for air, struggling to speak. From his throat, CA-4878 hears the feeble, distorted efforts of the Hunter, at first garbled, incomprehensible and then, slowly, chillingly, taking on the timbre and quality of his own voice. Filtered, "Who..."

Improving, "...the hell..."

Nearly perfect, "...are..."

Perfect, "...you?"

The Hunter's strength seems to fade even more...

Then, suddenly, with the last of his diminishing strength, he lashes out with one arm, activating the lethal, razor sharp spurs on his wrists. The Hunter's coiled leg kicks upward with incredible force, his terrible spur ripping into CA-4878's thigh, hurling 4878 into the air, flipping him over, sending him crashing to his back into the shallow pool of water, momentarily losing his bow. He flounders desperately in the water, searching for the bow. He finds it just as...

The Hunter rises slowly to his feet, gasping desperately for breath. He inhales deeply, hungrily, gaining strength with each breath. 4878 looks from the pool to see the Hunter, raising his weapon to throw.

In one totally instinctual movement, CA-4878 draws back on the arrow to its very tip and fires. The arrow, with a deadly thud, penetrates deeply in the Hunter's neck. Another blood-curling scream of rage as the Hunter clutches his throat, dropping his weapon. An instant later and the Hunter is gone.

**0500, Log Bridge, Magma Floe, Smoking Forest**

Emerging onto the huge log leading to the rim of the canyon, CA-4878 holding the Hunter's weapon, pauses several times, finding more traces of the Hunter's blood, the deep wound in his thigh flowing heavily. He continues across the log and climbs the bank, following the traces into the forest.

Moving along the rim of the canyon, 4878 follows the thick, orange blobs hanging on leaves and spent on the forest floor. Too weak to move through the trees, the Hunter has left a swath of trampled grasses, broken twigs and branches in his headlong retreat from CA-4878: the Hunter turned Hunted.

Powering upward from the canyon, the waterfall beneath them, two MAAT/i clear the rim, racing along at treetop height, heading towards the muddy island amphitheater.

The Hunter staggers into the clearing, bleeding severely. The Hunter is rapidly losing his camouflage ability, his skin turning a pale green, flexing and pulsing in shock. The glow of light from the energy field reflecting off the spreading apron of blood flowing from his wound. With trembling hands he grasps the arrow and breaks it, pulling the shaft from his neck. He screams in pain.

CA-4878 follows the blood trail, deeper into the incredibly dense vegetation, ripping aside the heavy growth, plunging onward. Before him, covering a narrow passageway, is a huge spider web, intricate, a meter across. CA-4878 starts to sweep aside the web. With a sharp intake of breath, he halts, centimeters from the web. Something is wrong. Examining the web closer he sees not silken threads but a hard and shiny network of hair-fine wire: a trap.

He backs up, picking up a hefty branch from the ground. He swings the branch with a mighty heave, clenching his teeth in pain. The branch sails end over end into the web impacting the strands. A metallic snap is heard; a high-pitched whine and the log is violently severed, the pieces flying in opposite directions with great speed.

CA-4878 runs on, again picking up the blood traces of the fleeing Hunter.

At the edge of the camp. He sees the Hunter staggering through the foliage. CA-4878 starts to run after him but then stops, dumbfounded by the incredible images that crash in on him: translucent human and Mustafarian skins stretched over frames, the hair of the attached scalps moving lightly in the wind; skinned bodies, some lying on the ground, others hung from the trees, like JS-9640 and his commandos were.

He turns back, seeing the Hunter as he passes through the shimmering distortion of a force field enveloping the forest. Within the force field he sees the vague, nearly transparent outline of the Hunter's starship. He approaches it, wide-eyed, his senses reeling with astonishment and rage. From within the force field, a passage way of blue light appears, the Hunter's form back lit as he ascends the ramp to his starship.

As the Hunter passes his hand through a light beam, the starship instantly responds, as a low, turbine-like howl is heard, building slowly in volume and pitch.

CA-4878 in his weakened condition staggers forward, looking up, seeing the passage way of light diminish as the door begins to close.

As rising heat waves begin to envelope the ship, the Hunter stares out at CA-4878, the heat waves increasing as the keening whine of the starship's drive builds. He enters the force field, the door now inches from closing.

On the ground, nearly obscured by the lava-grass and leaves, 4878 sees the Hunter's weapon, lying where he dropped it in his desperate flight to escape. CA-4878 grabs up the weapon and holds it. How the hell does it work?...He squeezes the handle of the weapon, feeling it resist. Nothing happens.

With the last ounce of his strength, and with a bellow of rage, his arm muscle bulging, he crushes down on the handle...In a flash of blue light, the weapon becomes activated. CA-4878 raises the weapon, sensing its power and function. In the final seconds before the door closes, 4878, with a triumphant scream, fires the weapon...

The weapon, flaring with deadly energy, drops and turns sideways, accelerating through the door and into the spacecraft. The weapon impacts the Hunter, his chest exploding in a fountain of orange blood and green tissue. The weapon continues on, burying itself into the energy field, bolts of plasma-energy begin arcing from the force field. The Hunter knows it has been killed, pushes a command on a transmitter attached to its wrist, as it dies, it lets out one final, long, human laugh.

CA-4878 falls forward onto his hands and knees, staring at the Hunter's starship. The sound of the hyper-drive continues to increase, and he can make out terrifying distant laughter coming from the starship, the starship begins to tremble.

On board the MAAT/i the instrument panel suddenly goes wild, gauges spinning, readouts racing out of control. The sound of the ion engine faltering, changing pitch. The Imperial Army pilot lurches forward with the stick, fighting for control.

At the Hunter's camp the multi-harmonic whine of the Hunter's starship is still building as the ground begins to shake. CA-4878, realizing that the starship is going to explode, and ignoring the pain in his leg and shoulder, runs desperately, searching for cover. He sprints for the edge of the clearing, diving for the embankment just as:

A blinding purple flash blows the starship to pieces.

**0600 MAAT/i, over Smoking Forest**

Enveloped in the flash of intense light. Cries of surprise fill the ship as the shock-wave hits the MAAT/i, heeling it hard over to one side.

Below, the concentric waves of energy race outward from the center of the blast, an unworldly sight, like the miniature birth of a star. The MAAT/i suddenly regains control, its power restored. "By the Emp...fierfek, what was that...?" the pilot yells.

General Patricks speaks over his shoulder, "Orbit right...check it out!" the MAAT/i levels out and heads towards the smoking, devastated site of the blast.

The forest has been completely transformed. No longer lush and thick with vegetation, the area is clear-cut, a meter above the ground, covered in fine white, smoldering ash. Amongst the shattered stumps, debris from the starship, bright as magnesium flares, burns with exotic colors. CA-4878, a living dead-man, streaked with the alien ash, rises up from a shallow depression, staring dumbstruck at the site.

Breaking in low over the treetops, the pair of MAAT/i flare up into position, one preparing to land. As the MAAT/i descends, the crew, standing in the doorway, stare transfixed at the devastation, their eyes trying to penetrate the dense white smoke. The MAAT/i slowly descends, its engine wash creating a raging storm, CA-4878 materializes from the swirling smoke and ash, his features taking form as he approaches, his naked body covered in mud, blood, and ash.

As the MAAT/i, emerging from the vortex, settles on the ground where the spacecraft once stood. Through the distorted veil, the MAAT/i, bristling with E-Webs and stormtroopers, now covered in white ash, looks like the alien starship.

The door gunner swings the light-laser cannon into the firing position, pointing it at CA-4878. He racks the bolt, loading a round of tibanna. The stormtrooper looks tense, frightened.

Ayya, standing next to the door gunner, stares at the strange creature before her, narrowing her eyes, uncertain. Is there something familiar about the figure?

CA-4878 stands in the clearing, staring at the MAAT/i and the array of blasters pointed at him. He looks dazed, like a man making contact with members of an alien race, for the first time.

The MAAT/i hovers again low to the ground, the tension inside building as CA-4878 approaches. More blasters swing into position. Power-glove fingers tighten on firing studs. Suddenly Ayya recognizes the figure. Realizing the danger she holds up her hands, shouting.

"Nooooooo!"

**0700 MAAT/i over the Smoking Forest**

The pair of MAAT/i sweep by, heading across the trackless forest and volcanic mountains, their engines pumping like heavy blaster-fire.

CA-4878, a blanket over his shoulders, still in the remains of his mud camouflage, his body laced with deep cuts; his chest and shoulders caked with dried blood, is seated on a bench in the cargo hold.

Near the cockpit are General Patricks, an Army medic, and two stormtroopers. They look at CA-4878 in awe. The medic, holding an open field kit, a syringe and bacta-bandages, turns to the Imperial General, he shakes his head, "Looks like he's been through hell...can't believe he's still alive. What the hell went on down there?"

Patricks has no idea, as he shakes his own head in disbelief, "If it hadn't been for her, he'd be dead now. That story she told us...I still can't believe it." He looks at the blue Twilek, her eyes meeting his, as if asking for an explanation. She looks at him a moment before turning back to CA-4878, staring at him as if he were risen form the dead.

She looks at CA-4878's face, 4878 returning her look, recognition passing between them. Ayya extends her hand. CA-4878 slowly reaches out, touching her fingers, then clasping her hand. CA-4878 turns his eyes to stare out the open door, beyond the passing forest below, out to the horizon. He turns back, looking at Ayya, a faint smile crossing his face...they made it.

The two MAAT/i pull away and head towards the distant, orange horizon.


End file.
